Most mornings, I go for an almost 2-mile walk in our neighborhood. There has been a sight lately that makes me pause every time I see it – a rose bush blooming right next to the remains of a house that burned down to its foundation.

It’s a beautiful and heartbreaking sight all at the same time.

In June, we were startled awake by our daughter opening our bedroom door and telling us our neighbor’s house was on fire. We quickly came out, expecting the start of flames and were shocked to see a house just a few doors away fully engulfed.

A moment of shock was followed by my husband sprinting back to our room to get his phone and call 911. I also had a phone call to make and it’s the worst call I’ve had to make yet in my life. I know the daughter of the woman who lived in the house. She taught my daughter in elementary school. I had to call in case she didn’t know … because, it struck me, if her mom and stop-dad hadn’t made it out of the house, it was going to be a tragic night.

I left a voicemail with a shaky voice and stared at my phone. Within minutes I got a text that the couple had made it out safely.

The relief I felt was short-lived. They were alive, but they were losing everything.

My husband put on shoes to go see if he could help. The flames were shooting tall and firefighters were hosing down the roof and the edges of the house. Most of the men in the neighborhood were heading over to see if there was anything they could do. 

We watched stunned, hoping and praying the house could be saved somehow, even just a little bit, but we soon realized that it was going to be a complete loss. The firefighters were emptying water trucks just trying to keep the fire from spreading. It hadn’t rained for three weeks. 

It rained the next day.

When I walked by two days later, there were two burned out cars, a chimney and the metal remains of two patio chairs. An evergreen tree next to the house had singed branches from top to bottom on the side closest to where the house had been. 

It was a few weeks later when I noticed the red flowers as I walked by the house. Roses were growing and blooming, showing life was possible even when all was lost.

The couple stayed in good spirits – knowing they were blessed to still be alive. That night, they were in bed when they heard the smoke alarms go off. They grabbed their phones, left the house and when they looked back, it was already almost fully engulfed.

Some neighbors say they heard an explosion or two. Could have been something with the propane tank. There’s nothing left to do any kind of investigation, though. They’ll never know for sure how or why it happened. 

They plan to move on by rebuilding the same house where theirs once stood.

It’s a hard story to tell, to believe. But, I can’t help but see God in it. Not only in the flowers growing amid the ashes, but in the way the couple has handled the tragedy of losing everything they own.