The California Wildfires

This is not my normal subject matter, but nothing is normal in Southern California right now.

I don’t even know where to begin. There is a lot to unpack and process. Let me get the business side of things out of the way. I know you are being inundated with pleas for donations and you may have a cause or organization that you may prefer. The most important thing is to help where you can, where your heart leads you. We are currently supporting evacuees with basic necessities and pivoting to helping in the long term once immediate needs are met. You can help us in this mission by donating here.

So much of my work as a pastor is about being present for people, a duty that is even more important in the midst of the wildfire crisis across Southern California. At the Pasadena Convention Center, where many evacuees landed after leaving their homes in haste, I spent a lot of time giving out hugs and engaging with people.

It is important to hear this, whether you are displaced by the fires or are experiencing generalized anxiety over the dynamic uncertainty of the fires: Its is OK to be Not OK. Emotionally, spiritually, be where you need to be. If you’re numb, fine. Angry, no problem. Scared, you have every right to be. Anxious, stunned, confused, fine. You’re feelings are valid and real. No need to mask or hide them.

I’ve heard so many stories from people. Please let me share some of this with you.

A Lost Woman

At the Pasadena Convention Center, I sat with a 91-year-old woman from Armenia, dressed in a patterned terry cloth bathrobe and house shoes. She and her daughter were evacuated from their home near Eaton Canyon. Her husband and son were in Armenia and couldn’t get a flight back in a reasonable time. She didn’t know where any important papers were, didn’t drive and didn’t trust the government and was not happy about being in a shelter. I suspect her distrust of the government came from growing up in Soviet Armenia.

She was stoic, but her voice cracked as she said she didn’t know what to do. She was unsure of the condition of her home, though I later found out that it survived the fire, but the garage and guest house had burned. I tried to find her the next day. Her distinctive robe was folded neatly on the chair next to her cot, but she was no where to be found.

I checked back a few times over the last couple of days, but each time, she was not at her cot. As people got settled in at the convention center, activities were planned, so I hope she found something to occupy her time or her husband and son arrived back in California and got her to a hotel or a relative’s home.

A Father and his Legacy

That same day, I met a family of 12, all of them arranged their cots around a few chairs. An older man, who I would later learn was the patriarch of the multi-generational family, was lying in a cot, with feet bandaged. I offered Holy Communion to the family and nearly everyone received the Precious Body of Christ.

After that, I chatted with a few of the family. I learned that all of them lived in three houses on one lot near Altadena Drive and Roosevelt Street. The father moved from Mexico to the US in 1980 and bought the property with just a single home on it a year later.

He added an ADU and a tiny home on the large lot to house his growing family. As I was getting curious about the father’s bandaged feet, his daughter began to tell me the story before I had to ask.

As soon as the evacuation orders came through, the family hastily packed bags and began loading up two cars with luggage, kids and the adults. The father stayed, unrolling the hose and trying to drench his beloved home. His daughters and one of their husbands tried to get him to the car, but he wouldn’t budge. Neighbors, frantically trying to get out harm’s way, came over and began to drag him to the car.

He was so firm in his desire to stay and save his home, as he was being dragged away, his shoes came off and his heals were scraped across the concrete of the driveway and sidewalk.

I visited the family again, and they were packing up their spare belongings. They excitedly told me that a cousin in Whittier would put them up in his home, which had an ADU and a mobile home.

Community Response

I am happily amazed at the outpouring of community support. From strangers driving in with truckloads of clothing, food and supplies from the Inland Empire and beyond, to the Garibaldina Society, the oldest active Italian social club in the country, mobilizing their members to prepare dozens of lasagne, pasta bakes and cookies for distribution to first responders and evacuees. (Full disclosure: I am also a multi-generational member of the Garibaldina Society and currently serve as its 2nd Vice President.)

There are countless donation drop-offs around the San Gabriel Valley. So many people have stepped up, many places are overwhelmed with donations and have stopped accepting donations, some because of space limitations and others to catch up on sorting the vast donations out for distribution. Please check social media to find out whether a location is accepting donations or not. I will do my best to post updates on my Instagram.

I’m a San Gabriel Valley kid, born and bred. To see the devastation is heartbreaking. The house and neighborhood where I was born in Altadena is gone. Not just one or two houses, but the entire street. This scene, this story, plays out repeatedly across the ‘Denas.

Please, be kind, be generous, help where you can, give where you can. Kindness and empathy are the orders of the day, week and month.

I’ll leave you with a photo of the remains of the house where I was born.