It's 3:30AM and I have been awakened by the screeching noise of the smoke alarm. If I had been more alert to detect the difference in cigeratte smoke and food burning on the stove smoke I would have gotten out of bed and checked long before the siren blarred. I will not name the culprit of this hazard in order to protect the guilty.
After excitedly calling fire, fire my husband and I rushed to the kitchen to see what was happening. The house was filled with nasty, smelly smoke and on the stove was a smoking pot and somebody was asleep in front of the television. We began to open doors and check the fuse box for the panel that would shut off the alarms. Thank God we had put fresh batteries in all of the detectors.
Memories of my childhood are awakened as I smell this smoke and I think of my Big Mama's house that burned down one day. Mama's house was the central home for family gatherings and sometimes my mom would let me spend the night with mama. Losing this safe haven was like losing a precious refuge.
Thinking about mama, God rest her soul, I remember one evening sitting on the floor in the living room watching one of my favorite shows. Mama and my mother were in another room talking and doing hair. They had opened the windows to let the fumes of pomade meeting a hot comb escape. The breeze from the summer night felt good as I sat with my ebows resting on my knees and hands under my chin as the images of cowboys played across the screen.
From my peripherial I could see a shadow. I turned from my show to see a man's head and shoulders coming through the window. "Mama, mama!" I screamed. "Mama, mama a man is coming in the window!" My grandmother came rushing into the room with her thick broom and went straight for the man's head. She yelled to my mom, "Will get the gun, get the gun."
That man hurried back out of the window and onto the enclosed porch, out the door and down the steps. My mother came in to the room empty handed looking to see the excitement and my grandmother rushing out to the porch. I don't know what she would have done if she had caught the man and he turned on her. Stunned, I was not able to cry or move. I couldn't tell my mother anything. When my grandmother came back in the house she looked at me and asked if I were okay. I was fine and happy that she had come to the rescue.
My mother waited for an explanation and when it was given she asked her mother, "why did you tell me to get the gun? You know you don't have a gun."
"That was the first thing that popped in my head. It must have been the Lord." My grandmother said.
What the man had in mind is still a mystery to me. I can't help but think now that maybe he would have kidnapped me or beat me or any other vile thing that evil men do to children. From my perspective, perhaps he thought I was home alone. It was the grace of God that saved us that day, just as He saved us this morning from a near fire. Favor with God is fair!
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