I’m writing this on Wednesday, May 4th, the day
Alberta waited to see which way the fires would go next. I’m watching the town I lived in for five
years burn. I’m in shock. My heart is heavy. Tears are close to the surface.
I’m grateful for social media to keep track of my friends as they leave Fort
McMurray – some heading north, some south.
A family of six is asleep in my basement, in beds we made at
midnight when we heard they were headed our way. It took them a gruelling twelve
hours to make the four-hour journey to Westlock.
Two days before these events, I found myself restless and uneasy.
I felt guilty sitting in my comfortable house with a full belly. I couldn’t
think of the unrest in the world and not feel an urgency to do something about
it. But what? Since January I’ve had to
become vigilantly frugal and live on a budget tighter than ever, so donating
cash wasn’t an option.
Forty-eight hours later, with our own evacuees headed this way, I had
my answer.
At times like this I am so impressed with my fellow humans.
They pitch in and give – time, money, food, shelter, and whatever else is
needed over the next days, weeks, and months.
Amidst the tragedy and chaos there is purpose and calm as we
put aside our differences and unite to preserve the things that matter to us
all – life and love.
