“Just after my mom’s 88th birthday, she reluctantly moved to an assisted living facility. When I visited her each day, she’d smile and tell me stories of old times, then ask anxiously if her old house had sold yet. I’d tell her no and she’d breathe a sigh of relief. Her heart wasn’t ready to let go. When she passed away a few weeks later, I knew her memories were now mine to protect.
“One evening I got a call from Mom’s old neighbor, who frantically told me her house was on fire. I drove the whole way begging God to protect my Mom’s keepsakes. They meant so much to her, Lord. She trusted in me to keep them safe! But when I arrived, firefighters were still trying to put out the blaze, and what was left was only a charred shell.
“The next day, I sifted through the ashes as tears ran down my face. Where were you? I cried to God as disappointment and sadness shot through me.
“Go to the bedroom. I was startled as those words echoed inside my mind like a whisper. I walked toward what used to be the master bedroom and immediately knocked into an old trunk, inexplicably unscathed. I unlatched it, lifted the lid and gasped. Inside was Mom’s vintage lace wedding dress, photo albums of her childhood and her worn black Bible…all the things she cherished most. “In that moment, I discovered another gift among the ruins…a lesson in God’s unwavering love and that his faithfulness is fireproof.”
—Amy Hartfield, 65, Albany, NY