Our family has always had a tradition of lighting an Advent Wreath for the holidays. This tradition started in our family when we attended the Bountiful Community Church. Four Sundays before Christmas, we would start the wreath which has four purple candles and one white candle in the center. Each Sunday, we read from the scriptures about the coming of the Christ Child to the world. For our family, it has been a way to bring Christ into the celebration of the Christmas season and a way to demonstrate that all of the scriptures testify of Him. The final candle is lit on Christmas Eve when we read from Luke of the Savior's birth. I have been worried about the safety of candles, so we have modified this tradition in the past. This year, we felt like we could be responsible and actually light the candles. With no little kids at home, it seemed a little safer. Last Sunday, we lit the three candles and read from the scriptures. In the middle of this, Janene got a phone call from a friend, who needed her to drive up to Ogden and be out late. I decided to prepare for bed and go to sleep without Janene. While I was upstairs getting ready, the thought came to me "I should go downstairs and do the dinner dishes first. " I didn't want Janene to come home and find the house a mess, with work to do before she went to bed. As I opened the door to the living room,
I was greeted by the sight of the entire Advent Wreath in flames, and the entire top of the coffee table in flames, with the whole room engulfed in smoke, punctuated by the popping sound of the flames. I wished Janene was home, because she always knows what to do in these situations. She doesn't panic and remembers where the fire extinguishers are. I ran downstairs, grabbed the big plate at the base of the wreath and carried it outside into the snow, dropping little bits of flame on the carpet and melting holes in the linoleum. I then ran back inside and scooped up everything on the table in the silk table runner that was on fire and threw it outside. Then came the job of putting out all the little fires on the table top, carpet and floor. I spent the rest of the night cleaning everything up and making sure that everything was completely out.
I know that I did everything wrong. I did not call 911. I could have spread the fire worse in my attempt to put it out. I could also have been seriously injured in the attempt. I also know that the Lord works in strange ways when He wants to prompt someone. I never do the dishes. Who would ever think that prompting me to feel guilty about not doing the dishes would be a way to warn me about the fire? I am so thankful that we still have a home to live in. One minute later, and we would not have been able to stop the fire.
