Fire at the Farm

Hey there, it's Lori again. I should probably introduce you to some of the characters in our story. I am married (for 10 years this year!) to my hardworking man, Tim. Together we have 4 children. Also running the farm is my sis, Amanda, Tims brothers, Adam, and Luke, and his wife Kari. Ephriam (another brother) and Victoria, don't live here at the farm, but who knows, maybe someday! They help out where they can as well.

Last weekend we had the honor and privilege of hosting Tim's out of state family, including his parents and their 5 children still at home, and yet another brother from Missouri. We had a great weekend, building fence, making Joel Salatin style chicken tractors and eating... Oh we ate a lot. Meals with the whole family is about the best thing for my heart.

After one such meal on the back porch the guys headed back out to the fields to build more fence. Luke called in for permission to burn a brush pile on his land. Permission granted, the wind was less than 5 mph, so he lit it up. Us ladies did the dishes and then laid on the cool grass behind the house, soaking in the hot sun on our faces. What a perfect and peaceful day.

Then came the interruption that seems to come when everything is going perfectly. Tim's dad came running around the side of the house, The boys have a fire, we gotta go. I grabbed the Can Am keys and threw them at him. 4 girls and 3 boys jumped on the UTV, throwing shovels on the back as we went. Tim jumped in the skid loader and booked it down the fence row towards the smoke, Joel came from the other direction with the old big John Deere tractor.

We made it to Lukes's land in record time, but the fire was quickly spreading. The boys grabbed hoodies and slapped at the flames, quickly killing the flames. Oh but, look over there! The fire was spreading, oh so quickly. I yelled we'll be back! And we raced back home, leaving the boys to do their best.

Back at the house, we grabbed buckets full of water and in no time were back on our way, driving more carefully to prevent spillage. My brother Joel was using the big loader tractor to scrape the dirt and dump it onto the flames. I thought he was making progress, but to my horror the 2-wheel drive tractor started spinning wheels in the sand. The flames leaped behind and in front of him. Using the loader dug into the ground, he pushed himself out and spun around to get in front of the fire again. Oh, but look at Kari! She has on a lawnmower, quickly zipping back and forth, chopping the 2-foot-tall grass flat to keep it from going that way. Is that safe?? Will that really work?? On the other side of the field, it seemed the wind had turned and was now headed for the cedar row. Oh, not the cedars. The cedars are over half a mile long and the tree row connects to the back 40, a heavily wooded pasture, thick with cedars. Not to mention Luke's shed that was barely finished a week ago wouldn't stand a chance. Desperately, Tim flung dirt onto the fire with the scoop of the skid loader, but it seemed to be of no avail. How long had it been! Where are the fire trucks?! 6 boys, dancing in the flames, continued to slap at the fire or throw dirt on it with shovels, but it leaped around them, jumping closer and closer to those cedars. Oh God, not the cedar row! Oh God, not the skid loader!!!!

Just as all hope seemed to be lost, we heard the oh so welcome sound of a siren on a brush truck. Through the fire he came a barrelin, water spraying a good 20 foot in each direction. Just in time, Oh God You hear our prayers, Oh glory.

Within minutes, as more trucks arrived, the fire was contained and then completely out. The boys drank water, and sat on the scoop of the skid loader, or slumped down on the ground, exhausted and in disbelief, knowing that there was barely a trucks width between the black burned ground and the tall, dry cedars. Their hair was singed, lashed and brows half gone, what a sight. Oh, thank you Lord for containing the fire. Never us, but the Lord. He cares for us, He shows his might in the mighty flames that we cannot quench, the wind that no one knows which way it comes or how it goes.

Only God.