Celebrating God’s Protection
As I was coming in from shopping,
my neighbor called me over to her fence.
As she gathered large cardboard boxes,
she asked, “Did you hear about my fire?”
“Earlier my husband said he saw someone
removing a burned stove. Are you okay?”
“It happened early Sunday morning.
I turned on the wrong burner,
one with a metal cover on it.
It caught on fire, along with
some things sitting there.
“It was still dark.
The electric went off.
My phone was dead.
“I knew not to throw water on an appliance.
I couldn’t’ find the fire extinguisher or flour.
I didn’t have my glasses on, and couldn’t see.
My babies mean more to me than life itself.
I had to make sure my babies were okay.”
Her babies—three little yippers.
I could picture the kitchen going up in flames,
as she bustled about collecting her dogs.
“When I came back in,
the fire was out of control.
I couldn’t put it out myself.
I couldn’t call the fire department.
I prayed, ‘God help me, I can’t do this.’
“I grabbed some towels and wet them.
I beat out the fire. I know God helped me.”
So today this poem is written in celebration
of God protecting my neighbor,
her three little yippers and my family,
since our houses are only seven feet apart.
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