I'm gonna go ahead and state the obvious: there are about 15 wildfires blazing throughout Southern California - considerably closer to home than I like thinking about.
Last night, Adam and I drove the 5 South a few miles to see the Camp Pendleton fire. Giant flames leaped up into a eerily ruddy night sky, throwing red and orange shadows as they chewed up the hillside. We stared in frightened fascination, watching the instant destruction of countless acres, and imagining our homes in its path.
Funny; how I've been so focused on "nesting" and making a cute little bower that could easily be gobbled up in minutes - thanks to hot winds or an arson's match. It makes me feel so small now, like all of my striving doesn't really mean much in the big scheme of things. When faced with disaster, we start thinking about the keepsakes we would grab and the people we would call. Our legacies and relationships are so much more valuable than the meaningless "stuff" that "moths and rust (or fires) destroy."
It's easy to get distracted with everyday worries, bills and to-do lists until the moment of truth; when I find myself looking at a blazing hillside - feeling in awe of my insignificance and thankful for what I do have.