Today I made a big pot of chili and had it on the stove to eat after church tonight. About 10 minutes before we left for the evening service I turned on the eye. I have a gas stove so I put the flame at a med-low setting while I filled a sippy cup and put a few snacks in my bag for Justice. My intention was to get the chili hot and turn it off as we were walking out the door. That was at 5:20 pm.
At 7:30 pm we were all loading back into the van for the drive home when Michael excitedly said to the kids, “Let’s go home and eat some chili!” —Immediately it hit me. Panic…dread..fear…I almost couldn’t breath. Did we have the number of our neighbor? Could we call him and ask him if the house was still standing? Had our neighbor already tried to call us?
I told Michael what I had done and we drove as quickly as possible to get home. I cried the whole way. Fear….most of the house would be gone. I knew it. The flame was high enough to cause major damage. I though of the precious items in my kitchen that would be gone. I thought of my dog and cat and tried to remember if they were inside or out. I looked toward the direction of our house the entire way back. Looking for smoke, smelling the air. Listening for sirens. Trying to remember what “911” is in Portugal….Is it “211” or is it “411”…I couldn’t remember. Michael assured me it was OK. I insisted it wasn’t. I knew what I had done and I couldn’t believe I went to church with the stove on. I was punishing myself already. I KNEW there would be trouble.
We arrive at the house and I saw no smoke. I ran immediately to the back door almost afraid to grab the knob…would it be hot? I looked through the windows for smoke. As best I could tell there wasn’t any. I opened the door and ran through into the kitchen. I smelled nothing…only a faint smell of chili. I turned on the light and ran to the stove. There sitting on the stove was a beautiful pot of chili. The perfect temperature for us to sit down to dinner right then. The knob on my stove was still set to the medium/low setting, but the flame was not on. It had not boiled over and drowned out the flame, and there was still plenty of gas. The flame had just gone out. And from the temperature of the chili it had gone out shortly after we left for church.
Overwhelmed I cried even harder. How could that have happend?
God blew that flame out as we were leaving for church. You can’t convince me otherwise.