One Last POOF

I enjoy the gas fireplace in our family room.
One click and the fire is ignited.
With multiple settings for both the flame and the fan, the heat given off is amazing.
It is the place to be in the winter.

Leaning against the raised hearth a corduroy bed rest is the favorite reading spot.
More often than not, the reader will soon be asleep next to the warm fire.
The fan brings the hot air back into the room, so it is energy efficient as well.
That alone sold my husband on its installation.

Some diehard fireplace fans may not like a gas fireplace quite as much.
They may miss the actual smell of wood burning.
They may miss the crackling sound coming from the fireplace.
Though they may not miss cleaning out the ashes and hiring a sweep to clean the flue.

In our first house, we had a coal stove.
It was an old fashioned, cast iron stove that sat on our hearth.
My husband had a shed that looked like a barn installed on our property.
He actually had it designed so that one side was actually a coal bin.

We had a company deliver coal through a long chute right into the one end.
He would go out every night after work and shovel a bucket-full of coal to keep the fire lit.
Every night, the top of the stove would be opened.
Every night, I heard the rattle of coal as he poured it into the stove.

Radiant heat, my engineer husband would say.
The cast iron door was hot to the touch.
I had ingenious ways of keeping our little daughters away.
The hearth was high off the floor; strategically placed baskets of books or toys helped a lot.

We all have our fireplace stories.
We have all forgotten to open the flue on occasion.
The smoke comes into the room instead of going up the chimney.
We all find that sitting by the fire is warm while the rest of the room is cold.

One of my daughters did quite a bit of pet sitting when she was young.
We had neighbors, at the time that shared the same last name.
They really enjoyed her love of animals and trusted her with their dog and two cats.
I remember one eventful day.

The phone rang with their number on the caller ID.
When I answered, I heard her frantic voice.
Mom, can you come over?
There is a squirrel in the house.

I ran over right away and sure enough a squirrel was making himself quite comfortable.
He scurried across the mantle and up the wall.
He was so quick; it was hard to keep our eye on him.
Mom, what should we do?

Squirrels outside collecting acorns and nuts were one thing.
Squirrels in the house, climbing on furniture and tables was quite another.
I said a quick shooting arrow kind of prayer and had an idea.
Let’s open all the doors.

It seemed simple enough, but it was winter.
I knew the house would get very cold, very fast.
We proceeded to open the sliding doors that opened onto their deck.
We opened the sliding door in the kitchen and the front door as well.

We watched the squirrel scurry over and under anything he could find.
We did our share of screaming when he got too close for comfort.
My daughter was so upset, thinking that all this happened on her watch.
Perhaps the smell of the outdoors lured him; the squirrel left as quickly as he came.

I went over to the fireplace and found that the flue was indeed open.
The squirrel must have gotten in the house that way.
I closed the flue.
My daughter, who was in middle school at the time, wrote a long note of explanation.

We straightened the things that were crooked and cleaned up as best we could.
We never forgot the ordeal.
The feeling that something was where it should not be.
The feeling of intrusion; one world onto another.

That squirrel getting into our neighbor’s house made me diligent about our own flue.
It was open whenever we had a fire in the fireplace; it was closed as soon as possible.
Before our gas fireplace, I would occasionally hear a little bird in our chimney.
Reminiscent of the Hitchcock movie, I would take a poker and hit the inside of the flue.

All of those problems are alleviated with the gas fireplace.
All but one.
When we turned the fireplace off for the first time after its installation, I was startled.
A POOF sound happened a few minutes after the fire was turned off.

The first time it happened, it scared me.
This burst of flame and a POOF all seen and heard behind the clear glass.
The next morning, I called the company.
Oh, that’s normal. It is supposed to do that.

You see, even though you turn off the fire, there is still a little propane in the jet.
That little bit of propane will ignite one more time.
That is exactly what happened.
One last POOF, one last bit of flame.

I actually like that and tend to wait for it each night when I turn off the fire.

For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love, and of self-discipline. (2 Timothy 1:6,7)

The world may say the Church is dead.
How wrong they are!
There is fuel in our jets.
There is a POOF that cannot be extinguished.

There is a power that flows through us, not of our own, but of His Spirit.
Wait for it.
POOF!
Ignition; fans flamed.

There is a fire in us that is of Him.
Have we forgotten?
Are we laying down crying, Uncle, because we think we have lost the battle?
We have not lost; we have already won simply because HE is victorious.

The battle is not over.
There is fuel in our jets.
There is a God-ordained POOF that is waiting to come forth.
Are you ready to be part of the fire?

Are you ready?