There's Peace in the Ashes

There’s Peace in the Ashes

Fifteen days. That’s how long Whit and I have been in Los Angeles with Catch the Wave since the fire tore through the Palisades, Altadena, and Pasadena. In that time, we’ve been on a mission—not just to provide spiritual, emotional, and financial support, but to walk alongside families as they take their first steps toward turning chaos into normalcy.  It’s been like the first day at a new school and we want some FRIENDS!!!

As you can imagine, walking into a community that’s been rocked to its core and finding deep authentic connections isn’t exactly a smooth process. Trust is fragile when the ground beneath you—literally—has turned to ash. I mean, when you can’t even be sure your home will still be standing when you run to the grocery store, how do you trust some stranger who shows up saying, “Hey, I’m here to help.  Want to be my BFF”?

We did what we could, we said yes to the assignments that God put in front of us each day, we were patient, we stayed open - and God did what He always does.  He showed up.

One of our biggest breakthroughs came at a distribution center, where I met Gerald and Renee. They were gathering supplies, and they needed a hand carrying cases of water three blocks to their car. So, we walked. And we talked. And by the time we reached their car, a wall had come down. They started sharing their story, their fears, their exhaustion. Right there, on the side of the street, I prayed for them. As I spoke, tears streamed down their faces, and my heart broke wide open for them.

As we were saying goodbye, I asked if they needed help sifting through the ashes of their home—just to see what remained. That’s when the real tears came. At 70 years old, the thought of digging through the wreckage of their life felt a little TOO heavy, so they’d been avoiding it, but deep down they knew it had to be done.

They said YESSSS!!!

Fast forward 10 days, and we met them at what used to be their home. We covered them in prayer, put on our PPE, and started the slow, tedious process of sifting—not really knowing what we’d find.

I’ll be honest—there was a part of me (and some of our team) that wanted a hero moment. We imagined finding the miraculously preserved Bible, the wedding album that somehow survived, the anniversary necklace nestled safely in a pocket of protection as the house collapsed. We pictured the hugs, the tears of gratitude.

But fire is merciless.

Renee showed us a picture of their home before the fire. Then we looked at the ashes in front of us—and it was unrecognizable. The top story had collapsed onto the first, leaving no order, no clues, just a 1200 square foot foundation covered in 12 inches of destruction. There was no detective work to be done. The only thing to do was dig.

And so we dug …carefully with glove-covered fingers.

Each item we pulled from the wreckage felt less like returning lost possessions and more like uncovering remnants of an ancient civilization. A few pots and pans. A single mug that somehow survived. Clumps of melted jewelry—bracelets, necklaces, watches, rings—fused together with glass and stone, no longer wearable, no longer separate.

After four and a half hours, Gerald and Renee had had all they could take, so we stopped and sorted through what we had found. Not one thing was salvageable. Not one thing could be handed to Gerald and Renee with a triumphant, “Look! You don’t have to replace this.”

And yet… there was peace.

Not in the finding, but in the seeking. In knowing they had looked. In silencing that nagging voice—“What if we just searched a little harder?”—because now they knew.

I feel like God keeps teaching me the same lesson over and over. I walk into these situations thinking it’s about the healing, or the support, or the jewelry I might find in the ashes. I paddle out into the ocean to take in the destruction when the streets are closed, or I walk through the wreckage, absorbing the weight of it all—thinking that somehow, that’s the work. And sure, those things matter. They shape my heart, giving me the endurance and tenacity to keep showing up.

But at the end of the day, the experience I’m craving always comes through the people.  The connection I thought would come in the ashes actually came on the foundation of the ashes …eating burgers and eggs across the table from each other.  Laughing and telling stories in a beautiful restaurant that they loved.

Jesus wanted to comfort Gerald and Renee in one of the heaviest moments of their 70 years on this earth. And for some reason, He chose me to be the one to represent Him. I’ll never fully wrap my head around that. But I do know this—He is so good, and I am so, so blessed.

.