WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
Praying for Rain in the Ashes of Paradise
byVanderleunonNovember 20, 2019
In those lines where we all line up, this time for the free and needful things at the Salvation Army’s Airport Supermarket (No charge.) we all talked about the rains; the rains that were forecast, the rains we hoped to have; the rains that when they come, even if they come in this very instant, come far too late this year; far too late for all of us.
The grandmother with the thousand yard stare who stood next to me wanted rain, wanted it badly. “It’ll put the fires out. Finally. Forecast to be a real soaking rain, a real soaker I heard,” she said as she snagged the escaping toddler among her seven grandchildren. She’d been working in the post office in Paradise, left it almost too late, got home and scooped up her grandchildren and, “My six Yorkies. Rounded them up and put them the van with the kids. Off we went. The fire was starting to surround us. All the kids were quiet but the Yorkies just yapped and yipped all the way out. We have to have that rain. We just have to have it. It’s going to be a soaker.”
She and her older children lost five houses between them. All were burned out. All were saved. Her son, a solid man with an even and determined look, came over and agreed about the rain. “I’m buying an RV and I’m going to park it right next to the foundation of my house. Get a generator and some chain link fencing. You should too, mom.” She was off scooping up her escaping toddler while the son’s wife secured a daughter who was trying to escape from her stroller. “Better rain. Better rain soon.”
As we waited in the line and silently prayed for rain, a strange thing began to happen to Chico. The smoke began to lift. The air began to clear. Some blue. S0me clear blue began to appear. And then, for the first time since the immolation of Paradise (How many days was it? Was it yesterday, or last week, or before.) it was a beautiful autumn day in Chico. Somewhere off to the south, and off to the east, the Camp Fire continued to burn but all that was previous, previous.
The air was still bad, of course. The air was still full of soot and toxins and all the hundreds of things given off from the burning of the corpse of Paradise, but here and now down in the valley it seemed clear and we heard the rains were coming. It was a beautiful day with the rains on the way. That was the forecast for Chico and a lot of the masks, the white smoke masks, came off.
I left the Salvation Army Everything Free Supermarket after getting some needful things and called my mother’s doctor. My mother had been housebound by the smoke for days and she hadn’t had a flu shot. And this year, of all the years of her life, she needed a flu shot. She’d survived The 1918 influenza pandemic and didn’t need to press her luck again 100 years later. I called her doctor and got an immediate appointment. We went to the office and they took her in immediately. In the reception area, the nurses were all talking about the rain. Hoping for the rain. Praying for the rain.
When we left we took some extra time to drive down the central boulevard of Chico, the Esplanade. We drove slowly on this most extraordinary clear and deep-dyed autumn day. Along the center of the Esplanade, the gingkos were in their final gold and the clear afternoon sunlight made the red leaves of the oaks glow. Then we went back to my mother’s apartment where the lady that comes to help her was waiting for, praying for, and talking about nothing but the rain.
In Brooklyn on 9/11, I’d watched the Towers burn and fall in the middle of the same kind of clear and beautiful autumn day. To the north and to the south of the Towers as seen from the Brooklyn Heights promenade it was all serene. Serene but made obscene with the burning funeral pyre of three thousand people sending up thick and deadly smoke in the exact center of a crisp blue sky.
In the days after the Towers fell, all in the city prayed for rain. We prayed for rain so that those waters from heaven, cold and deep and drenching, might put out the fires and cool the embers and we would all be restored and returned to life as it was.
And the rains came. And the dust on the leaves ran gold into the gutters. And the fires still burned on deep in “The Pile.” Burned for months and months as the smoke rose and drifted and swirled, a constant despised companion. And now it was seventeen years later and we were all praying for rain in Paradise.
And we were not restored by the rains then and these rains will not restore us now. Like a root fire, it will burn on inside all of us. Who will stop the rain? God knows.
Heard the singers playin’ How we cheered for more The crowd then rushed together Tryin’ to keep warm Still the rain kept pourin’ Fallin’ on my ears And I wonder, still I wonder Who’ll stop the rain?
If those rains come, the ashes of Paradise, mixed with the rains, could create a whole ‘nother mess. Pray they come slow and easy, I’d say, or folks may be praying for the “Who’ll stop the rain?”
VanderleunNovember 20, 2018, 9:49 AM
I know about that and plan to write a separate item after we see what these rains bring
Tod NedrowNovember 20, 2018, 11:17 AM
Standing by the well, wishing for the rains
Reaching to the clouds, for nothing else remains
Drifting in a daze, when evening will be done
Try looking through a haze
At an empty house, in the cold, cold sun
I will wait until it all goes round
With you in sight, the lost are found
-Richard Manuel
Lance de BoyleNovember 20, 2018, 11:23 AM
In either hand the hastening Angel caught
Our lingering parents, and to the eastern gate
Led them direct, and down the cliff as fast
To the subjected plain; then disappeared.
They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld
Of Paradise, so late their happy seat,
Waved over by that flaming brand; the gate
With dreadful faces thronged, and fiery arms:
Some natural tears they dropt, but wiped them soon;
The world was all before them, where to choose
Their place of rest, and Providence their guide:
They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow,
Through Eden took their solitary way.
Gerard, I just took a peek at the weather forecast (Intellicast) for Paradise. It currently predicts almost 6 inches of rain over Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. I pray the weather prognosticators are wrong. That’s too much rain too fast after an all consuming fire in that kind of terrain.
Chuck RostkowskiNovember 20, 2018, 2:44 PM
Gerard, Your reference to “Easter, 1916” caught my eye and seemed so appropriate for what those in Paradise have been through.
Phil in EnglewoodNovember 20, 2018, 4:27 PM
Made me remember this, James Gang from long ago and far away; Ashes The Rain and I
My apologies in advance if it is poor timing to share these quotes – 8+ years after our flood losses in Nashville, we are just beginning to be able to examine these truths. We pray you may have this experience in the fullness of God’s timing for you.
“No one who tastes death up close and personal is ever the same again.”
“People who survive catastrophic loss often say that they survived by coming to see, in time, that they somehow had to take the loss into themselves and allow it to enlarge their heart(sic) so that their capacity to live well and to enjoy simple things and to know God intimately increased in a way they never thought possible.”
From Living Life Backward by David Gibson, Chapter 6, “Learning to Love the Limitations of Life”
I remember an old episode of Route 66. A old actor, J. Carrol Nash if I remember correctly, played a California farmer. His crops were at a delicate point just prior to harvest, a little rain would be OK, heavy rain would bring loss, but hail would be disastrous. As he sat drinking wine he heard the rain start outside. He ran out and stood in his fields looking up and clasping his vines he intoned “Keep it soft, God. Keep it soft”.
Keep it soft God for our friends in Chico and Paradise. Keep it soft.
Howard NelsonNovember 20, 2018, 8:40 PM
Some are annealed by fire
Some are annealed by flood.
Some are annealed by starvation
Some are annealed by every privation.
Surviving each trial
Some dross is removed
And spiritual steel is proved.
Onlooker, far away, may wonder
How will I stand
When my life comes asunder?
Netflix has a documentary entitled “Fire in Paradise”, which I found pretty moving. I’ve gotta say, I’m still think I’m sticking with inundation over incineration (and I do not say that lightly; my bride of 30+ years as an 18 year old had to flee into the teeth of a Cat 3 hurricane from a house blown to pieces by two large trees falling onto it). Fire scares the crap out of me, as it does most of us who followed the sea.
And to our patron, welcome back from your sojourn among the great and the good, sir!
Real World Address for Donations, Mash Notes and Hate Mail
Gerard Van der Leun
1692 MANGROVE AVE
APT 379
Chico, Ca 95926
Green Pants Interior by Klahn
Who Am I? by Carl Sandburg
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I reach my hands and play with pebbles of destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs reading “Keep Off.”
My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive in the universe.
Duty, Beauty, Liberty, Country, Honor, Family, Faith — Plus a few simple easy to follow rules for guys
Men saw the stars at the edge of the sea
They thought great thoughts about liberty
Poets wrote down words that did fit
Writers wrote books
Thinkers thought about it
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
Many’s the road I have walked upon
Many’s the hour between dusk and dawn
Many’s the time
Many’s the mile
I see it all now
Through the eyes of a child
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
[Chorus]
Lost dreams and found dreams
In America
In America
In America
Lost dreams and found dreams
In America
In America
In America
And close your eyes
Leave it all for a while
Leave the world
And your worries behind
You will build on whatever is real
And wake up each day
To a new waking dream
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
[Chorus]
Change, change come over
Change come over
Talkin’ about a change
Change, change
Change come over, now
Change, change, change come over
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I see my light
See my light
See my shining light
I see my light
See my light
See my shining light
Gerard Van der Leun
Comments on this entry are closed.
If those rains come, the ashes of Paradise, mixed with the rains, could create a whole ‘nother mess. Pray they come slow and easy, I’d say, or folks may be praying for the “Who’ll stop the rain?”
I know about that and plan to write a separate item after we see what these rains bring
Standing by the well, wishing for the rains
Reaching to the clouds, for nothing else remains
Drifting in a daze, when evening will be done
Try looking through a haze
At an empty house, in the cold, cold sun
I will wait until it all goes round
With you in sight, the lost are found
-Richard Manuel
In either hand the hastening Angel caught
Our lingering parents, and to the eastern gate
Led them direct, and down the cliff as fast
To the subjected plain; then disappeared.
They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld
Of Paradise, so late their happy seat,
Waved over by that flaming brand; the gate
With dreadful faces thronged, and fiery arms:
Some natural tears they dropt, but wiped them soon;
The world was all before them, where to choose
Their place of rest, and Providence their guide:
They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow,
Through Eden took their solitary way.
Gerard, I just took a peek at the weather forecast (Intellicast) for Paradise. It currently predicts almost 6 inches of rain over Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. I pray the weather prognosticators are wrong. That’s too much rain too fast after an all consuming fire in that kind of terrain.
Gerard, Your reference to “Easter, 1916” caught my eye and seemed so appropriate for what those in Paradise have been through.
Made me remember this, James Gang from long ago and far away; Ashes The Rain and I
https://youtu.be/QSbfjVGmJ1U
My apologies in advance if it is poor timing to share these quotes – 8+ years after our flood losses in Nashville, we are just beginning to be able to examine these truths. We pray you may have this experience in the fullness of God’s timing for you.
“No one who tastes death up close and personal is ever the same again.”
“People who survive catastrophic loss often say that they survived by coming to see, in time, that they somehow had to take the loss into themselves and allow it to enlarge their heart(sic) so that their capacity to live well and to enjoy simple things and to know God intimately increased in a way they never thought possible.”
From Living Life Backward by David Gibson, Chapter 6, “Learning to Love the Limitations of Life”
Not even hiding it… https://www.lockheedmartin.com/en-us/capabilities/directed-energy.html
I remember an old episode of Route 66. A old actor, J. Carrol Nash if I remember correctly, played a California farmer. His crops were at a delicate point just prior to harvest, a little rain would be OK, heavy rain would bring loss, but hail would be disastrous. As he sat drinking wine he heard the rain start outside. He ran out and stood in his fields looking up and clasping his vines he intoned “Keep it soft, God. Keep it soft”.
Keep it soft God for our friends in Chico and Paradise. Keep it soft.
Some are annealed by fire
Some are annealed by flood.
Some are annealed by starvation
Some are annealed by every privation.
Surviving each trial
Some dross is removed
And spiritual steel is proved.
Onlooker, far away, may wonder
How will I stand
When my life comes asunder?
The storm is passing over. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZATW4MnRxo
Our prayers for you and all of you never ceasing.
Love, J&G
Here’s the most thorough report on Paradise that I have seen so far.
Whats Left after Paradise Camp Fire | Aftermath / Ruins | Over 600 People Missing
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BSsN0_XO2WI
Netflix has a documentary entitled “Fire in Paradise”, which I found pretty moving. I’ve gotta say, I’m still think I’m sticking with inundation over incineration (and I do not say that lightly; my bride of 30+ years as an 18 year old had to flee into the teeth of a Cat 3 hurricane from a house blown to pieces by two large trees falling onto it). Fire scares the crap out of me, as it does most of us who followed the sea.
And to our patron, welcome back from your sojourn among the great and the good, sir!