In my fourteen years of life, I have faced many setbacks and interferences that have put my life at a stand-still. The year 2016 was a year of firsts, my first year at a new school, my first time moving, and the first time my house burned down. It was a day in late October, I was in third grade and I was going through my regular school day routine. Get to school, do the work, and go home, except the go-home part of the plan was not executed the way it was supposed to. It was around three o’clock when I was picked up by my mother. I walked into the front office of the Lower School and I saw her talking with the other parents waiting for their children to come through the double doors. I heard snippets of the conversation, but the one that made my head snap right towards my mom was when she said “...and the house had burned down.”

I was and still am a very nosy kid so, when I want to know something, I will annoy my mom until she tells me. At first, she wouldn’t tell my brother and me whose house had burned down, despite the nagging and whining from both of us. Once we were pretty far away from the building, my mom sat on a bench by the field with dead grass at the entrance of the school. She was still stalling and we were still asking questions. She finally let up and released the information that our house was the house that had burned down. I didn’t believe her at first, then she showed me the pictures. We were in the process of moving and just our luck that everything we owned was in the garage, which is where the fire started. My mom showed us pictures of the damage that had been done. I remember collapsing and sobbing on my mom’s shoulder. She was still in her scrubs from work and I was still in my school uniform. In the pictures, it was nothing but burned ash, the only thing I could see was a St. Andrews’ crest from a shirt. All of my dad’s artwork from college was gone, and all of the belongings that were packed were gone.

I calmed down enough to make sentences and asked my mom “ Where are we going to live?” Thankfully, my uncle Terris and aunt Demetria let us stay with them until we found a place to live. We got into our car and my mom drove us to what used to be our house. She told us the story the police and firemen told her. She said that a pizza guy was riding a bike around eleven in the morning when he saw smoke coming from the bottom of the garage. He called 911 and they had to pry the garage door open, all they saw was orange, yellow, and red flames engulfing everything in our garage. The reason the fire had started was because of an extension cord that was connected to the refrigerator in the garage. 

While living with other people for three weeks and living in a hotel for three months, one thing I learned was that no matter what setback or challenge I face, I will always have a community to be there for me. In this case, it was the St. Andrew’s community. Even though it was my first year at the school, they tried to help my family in any way they could. We got donations and care packages from other families and faculty members. We were given prayer cards and we were prayed for in the weekly chapels every week until the end of the year. I will forever be grateful for the community at my school, and the things they have done for me and my family.