Well, I must say this question has been on my mind all week and I’ve given it much thought and contemplation.

I remember when I was a little girl - probably 4 or 5 - that there was a fire in our neighbourhood - it was Christmas Eve. My parents told us the family escaped only wearing their pyjamas. All their possessions were burned. I remember my parents asking us kids to share our new toys with the family. I remember my mom going through my dresser drawer and closet, gathering clothes to give to the little girl who was about my age. I hope I was kind to share my new toys and gifts with that little girl. I hope I wasn’t grumpy and mean.

I also remember early in our ministry in Orillia when Randy was a young, inexperienced pastor and he was asked to officiate at the funeral of two little children. They died of smoke inhalation in a house fire. I remember looking at those two little coffins and two perfect little bodies - looking like they were asleep. There was not a mark on them. There were no signs of trauma. What do you say to parents who experience such devastation and loss. What words bring comfort? I don’t even remember what Randy said at their funerals. I wept silent tears for that family. I wept as I tucked my own little boys in their beds that night and for several nights after that.

As I think about this answer - my obvious thought - would be to make sure any living creatures under my roof - whether man or beast - get out safely. That’s it.

If it’s just me and I have two minutes (because the fire department says that’s all the time you have) - I wondered how long two minutes was. I sat with my timer and two minutes seemed to tick by very slowly just waiting for it to be done. It also seems a long time when holding a squat. It also seems long when you are waiting for a phone call. It doesn’t seem long if you are running through a burning house.

I thought I might grab my photo albums. But how do I grab 15 albums and carry them up the stairs? Which of those albums are the most important? It occurred to me that those photos are imprinted on my brain and in my heart. I can tell you exactly what each of my babies looked like the moment I laid my eyes on them. I feel their newborn fuzzy heads as if it was yesterday. I know their facial expressions - what brought joy to their wee hearts and what broke them. I see them on that first day of kindergarten - tentatively letting go of my hand and putting it in the hand of their teacher. I see them on the basketball court, the volleyball court, the football field, the rugby pitch, the tennis court. I see them leading their charges at summer camp. I see them leading worship at church. My heart carries the conversations about future wives. I recall each of their wedding days - standing tall and proud at the front - with their brothers as witnesses - and their dad as officiant - gazing with love at their brides - dressed in the finest of gowns! I know the moment I met each of my grandchildren - it’s all in my heart. It’s all in my mind. So - no - I wouldn’t grab the photo albums.

Would I grab my wallet? Not a chance.

Would I grab my phone? Not even that!

Here it is. If I had time - I would grab my Bible - I would try to get all 5 or 6 of the bibles I’ve used in my life. When I was a teenager, my sister gave me the “new, living translation”. I used that Bible all through my teen years. Tali has it now. When I was at Ontario Bible College - I used the New American Standard version. It has so many notes written on the edges. Quotes from my professors. My Bibles lasted about ten years before they fell apart and I would get a new one. Each decade of underlined verses - of promises written by the prophets of old - promises that I put into practice. Some of the pages with tear drop stains on them as I poured my heart out to the Father who loves me. Some pages with names written beside certain verses as I trusted God to answer prayers for loved ones. I love God’s Word. It’s been my guidance since I was 8 years old. I promised my Sunday School teacher that I would read a little bit each day of my life. I have missed a few days I know, but it’s a promise I’ve tried to keep.

What would you grab?