After a Wildfire Evacuation: 3 Things I Didn’t Expect

It has been a little over a week after a wildfire evacuation forced us to leave our home. The fires are nearly contained now, and the evacuation notices have lifted. People are going back to what is left of their homes to see what they can salvage, and you can watch it on the news every night.

Today was the first day I had short stretches where I did not think about any of it. That is what starting to feel normal means around here right now. Not that it is over; just that it is not the only thing I think about anymore. Although the memories do play back in my head.

The Afternoon We Left

My husband Terry and I live north of Spokane in Stevens County. Fire season is part of life here, but none of that prepared us for this. That afternoon, I received an alert on my phone of a fire in Spokane. I started running around looking for my cat. Then the next thing I know, another notice came in that the fire jumped the river. I found my cat hiding under the bed, put her in her crate, and got my dog’s harness and leash on.

There is no time to think when that notice comes. I grabbed our prepacked bags, threw a few more things in, and got the pets and their food. Terry got the camper hooked up. Then we received a notification that a second fire jumped the river into our own neighborhood. That is when we received the Level 3 Go Now evacuation order. I was terrified. I saw the smoke and knew the fire was close.

He took his truck with our fur babies and the trailer, and I took my 4Runner.

Terry had made sure we each had a walkie talkie, and he made sure we both said out loud where we were headed. That one small thing mattered more than we knew at the time.

Traffic funneled onto one back road, bumper to bumper. We made it about half a mile before an officer waved Terry through and held me back. That fast, we were separated. I kept looking in my rearview mirrors to see if the fire was behind me. It felt like forever before the officer waved me through. The traffic was still bumper to bumper. There was no cell service, and I did not know where Terry was. The only thing that kept it from being much worse is that I knew what direction we were headed.

We finally got through on our walkie talkies. We had taken separate roads, but we were able to get back onto the same route and found a parking lot in the next town over. That was its own kind of scary. At first, we saw other evacuees and there was a fast-food restaurant open. Terry waited in line for about an hour while I tried to find somewhere we could take our trailer to stay overnight. I could not get through to anyone.

We could not head to Spokane because the other fire was there. It got dark, and the other evacuees had left the parking lot. We knew we could not stay, so we took a chance and headed to a small town down a dark one-lane highway to a small rodeo ground. I was so relieved that there was one volunteer working there that night. There were only a couple of other people there who had their horse trailers with them.

I barely slept that night, not knowing if our house had burned down or what was going on. The next day, the smoke in the air was worse. We were still on a Go Now evacuation order. Later that afternoon, the order lifted to Level 2, meaning we were allowed to go back to our home, though we did not know if it was standing or not. We arrived and were relieved to see that our neighborhood was still there, along with our house. Six homes did burn down before the fire jumped the freeway right to that side road we took to evacuate. That road was now closed.

The was the worst of it. However, what came after has been different, slower, and harder to describe.

For a week straight, my phone was glued to my hand. Alerts, containment numbers, road closures, and messages from people checking on us. When the back roads opened, Terry drove to Costco. He came home and told me about the destruction he had seen before I ever went out there myself.

I am so glad he did that. These are roads we drive every week, and this is where we ride our bikes. You see it on the news, but the news does not show you the stretch of road you take into town. As it is, I wrote a poem about all this; it helps me process everything.

Small things carry more weight than they should right now. There is a spot where we walk our dog, and there are llamas we drive past. A news channel posted that the llamas were back home. I cannot even walk our dog there yet because the air quality is still too high for my lungs, but that one report made me happy for a whole day. All of Riverside State Park, including the area we walk our dog, is still closed.

The Guilt I Did Not Expect After a Wildfire Evacuation

We came home to a house. Other people in our neighborhood did not. Somewhere in the middle of being grateful and sad and fearful all at the same time, I also started feeling something that looks a lot like guilt.

I keep thinking I should be out there helping other members in the community who were passing out donated supplies to people affected by the fires. I cannot, because the smoke sensitivity that keeps me inside is real. Going out there would put me back on my inhaler and coughing constantly. Yet, I felt guilty still.

I know in due time that God will bring good out of all of this and He will show me how I can help as well. I believe it is going to be through Rebuild With Clarity and our upcoming events like A Life Rebuilt, A Pathway to Restoration by BEAR, A Recovery Foundation.

If you are feeling some version of survivor’s guilt or fear, I want you to hear that it is common. Coming through something intact when others did not is its own thing to carry. It does not cancel your fear, and your fear does not cancel your gratitude. Both of them get to be true and you are doing the best you can.

If you take nothing else from our story, build a framework for your own safety using these five steps. We learned all of them the hard way.

• Sign up for local emergency alerts today: Register for your county notifications online and download a dedicated fire tracking app. It takes only a few minutes and you can do it today.
• Have a bag packed before you need it: Do this while nothing is happening. Include what your pets need.
• Know where you would go: Decide on a primary destination and a backup option.
• Say your destination out loud: Say it to everyone leaving with you before you pull out. It takes five seconds and costs nothing.
• Put a walkie talkie in each vehicle: Assume cell service will go out.

We Can Help You Rebuild

We cannot help anybody rebuild a house, but we can help people rebuild a life.

Terry and I both had to rebuild ours once from our own hard seasons. We had to figure it out with nobody handing us a plan, and that is the whole reason Rebuild With Clarity exists.

If you are standing in the after right now, the shape is different but the ground feels the same. Everything hits at once, and you have no idea which piece to pick up first. What we have learned is that you do not pick up all of it. You pick up one thing today.

Watch the Full Story

We sat down and told the whole story on camera, sharing both of our perspectives on how fast everything happened. You can watch the full video here to hear about that night in our own words.

Finding Your Footing

Taking things one step at a time is the most reliable way forward after a wildfire evacuation. If you are feeling overwhelmed by the road ahead, remember that you do not need to have the entire plan figured out today. We hope sharing our story helps you find your footing in this season.

One Small Thing a Day

Our free 7-Day Guide provides a structure of one small thing a day, which is about all anybody can handle right after a major life event. It is free, and it is right here. https://rebuildwithclarity.com/starting-over-after-50-free-guide/

Let’ Rebuild Together, One Day at a Time!

Donna, Co-Founder