How are you doing? How are you feeling?

Questions I have no idea how to answer.

How can I adequately describe all the emotions that are filling me up inside? How does someone describe how it feels to possibly lose the only home they have ever known?

I don’t know.

Turmoil.

Fear.

Distress.

Heartbreak.

I don’t know.

One moment I’m doing okay. I can smile and laugh and distract myself from everything that is happening… because that’s what we are trying to do. Distract ourselves. We tell ourselves that we can’t control what is happening, so we should focus on what we can control. We dive into work or school in order to escape this nightmare we are living. And we’re pretty good at it for the most part… but the illusion only lasts so long.

It only takes moments for everything to sink in again… for the smoke to fill our nostrils or another fire update to light up our phone. Or, it’s the end of the day and we remember that, once again, we can’t go home.

And every night we crawl into some blankets exhausted. Emotionally drained from crying and smiling and worrying and hoping. Anxiously waiting for the unknown and never knowing what the night will hold for our homes. Tossing and turning all night because it is hard to wait… and wait… and wait…

So, how are you doing? How are you feeling?

I still don’t know. But even though half the time we’re crying and the other half we’re putting on a good face, we will never stop hoping. We will never stop praying. Because you see, this isn’t just about one home or one community. This is about multiple communities. This is about protecting them all. And we will pray and fast and thank God for the tender mercies He has shown us thus far. Angels are with us… legions of them. I can feel them. They are here.

Please continue to pray and fast on our behalf. God is listening. He is there.

And if you see me, or any other evacuee, forgive us. We are grieving. We may not know how to act or react when you ask us how we are doing or how we are feeling. We’re just trying to make it through this. We’re just praying for a miracle.

Love, Shalee