My Heart Warming Christmas Story. Part Two
or God Really Really Hates Me

On December 23rd 2001 God burned my house down. From what I would later learn somewhere in a crawl space under my living room, he caused a old piece of electrical wiring to short out where it was connected with the new wiring at a junction box. He probably caused this to happen even before we left. The fire was a long smoldering one. It took it's time to gather strength.
From what the firemen and other experts would later tell me a slow building fire is by far the worst type of fire you can have. It's far hotter then any flash fire.
I knew none of this when Angie's brother told me that my house was in flames. I hung up from him and ran outside to the front porch to call my parents. Every time I dialed the number it was busy. After the sixth time dialing it, I realized that I was actually dialing my own phone number. "That's not good", I thought.
Meanwhile inside the house Angie was trying to figure out what was going on. Her uncle knew but couldn't find the words to tell her. She knew something was wrong by everyone's looks, and was getting frustrated no one would tell her.
Finally I got hold of my parents house. A woman who worked for my parents answered the phone and told me that my family was over at my house and from what she knew it didn't look good. I told her to let everyone know I we were ok , and on our way home. I ran into the house and told Angie what little I knew. Within just a few minutes we were in the truck and racing back to Kewanee. We took Isaac with us, but in my most shameful moment during the whole event, we left Ethan behind without telling him anything.
The trip home was probably the longest ride of our life. The entire way home we kept saying things like,"Maybe it's not that bad". Or, "We only live 3 blocks from the fire station. How bad could it be?" We kept trying to make the other feel better, but it wasn't doing any good. I was driving at well over 75 miles a hour, but it seemed like I was just crawling along.
Angie told me she thought it was the furnace. She said it had been giving her problems all week.
When we entered the outskirts of Kewanee, I rolled the window down. At that point we were a couple miles from our house but we were downwind. I thought if the fire was bad I would smell something. I took a deep breath though my nose.
I smelled smoke. A particular smoke that only came from house fires.
"Damn it", I cursed under my breath.
A few blocks from my house I could the lights of fire trucks and police cars blocking my street off. My heart sank. From the sound Angie made, hers had just done the same. Ignoring the squad car blocking the street off, we pulled right in front of our house. Smoke was still drifting out of every window. Which wasn't hard. Every window was broken out in my house.
But the outside looked fine. A small hope surged in me. "Maybe it's just smoke damage?" I said it to Angie but it was to comfort me. I got out of the truck. Angie holding Isaac was close behind me. I ran up to the house towards the first fireman I could see.
"What happened?", I asked.
"We're not sure. It started in your basement is all we know for sure.", the man replied.
I ran into the house. Ash was on everything. The first thing I clearly remember seeing was our two Christmas trees. One was my Grandmothers, the other was Angie's Grandmothers. Each was singed and melted. I ran over to the book case and grabbed a card that Steve had given me months before he passed away. Knowing it was ok made me feel a little better. The entire time the Fire Chief was talking to me, but I couldn't understand a word he was saying. A very cold wind was blowing though my house. Insanely it seemed much colder in the house then it did outside.
From where I was standing by the bookcase I could see into my living room. A huge portion of my living room floor was gone. In it's place was a gaping hole that led to my basement. A quick glance around told me that almost my entire first floor was a total lose. A policeman that I knew told me that I had some family members there earlier but they had left a little while ago. I was to call them as soon as I could.
I looked at my melted phone and thought, "It's going to be awhile."
At around this time Angie's Dad showed up. He stayed in his car for the most part, but thankfully watched Isaac, so we didn't have to bring him into the house. For once Isaac was remarkably well behaved.
One of the firemen took Angie to the basement. She was sure it was the furnace that had started the fire. But once down there it was clear that it started in a crawlspace under the living room. The basement was completely flooded, with water dripping from the ceiling. From where Angie was standing she could see the huge center beam that ran though the center of the house. The beam was at least 18 inches wide and a foot thick. Half of it was gone, burned completely away.
Upstairs I made some comment to the Fire Chief, about if they could brace the large hole and make sure it wouldn't collapse any further. The Fire Chief put his arm around my shoulder and took me outside. There he told me as gently as he could, "Son your house is a total lose. No one will ever live in it again."
My mind was reeling. Things get hazy at this point. I remember at one point crying on the front steps. Everything I had was gone. I didn't even know where I was going to be sleeping that night. Angie was walking though the parts of the house the firemen were letting her go, picking up what odds and ends she could save.
At one point the Fire Marshal pulled up in front of the house. Angie went out to talk to him. While she was there a little old later drove by slowly. She stopped and asked Angie if the people that lived there were around. Angie told her she lived there.
The little old lady pulled out some money and gave it to Angie. Angie still in shock herself said thank you. The little old lady slowly drove away. When the Fire Marshal was done asking Angie questions she came back the remains of the house and told me about the little old lady.
"Wow", I said. "That was nice of her. We're probably need it."
Realizing that there was nothing more we could do at the remains of our house, we decided to head over to my parents. Rose and John were waiting for us over there. They were both very concerned for us. (Which in and of itself was just unsettling) Rose even offered to let us stay at her house for as long as we needed. I asked where Mom and Dad were. No one seemed to know.
Telling everyone I needed to make a few phone calls I walked upstairs to Mom's sun room. I sat down behind her desk and started to shake. I knew I was just moments from losing it completely. I sat there and tried to hold myself together.
"It can't get any worse", I said to myself.

Tomorrow the heart warming Conclusion.