by Seneca Moraleda-Puguan
When I was young, my family would spend summers at my grandparents’ home in Sorsogon, Bicol, south of Luzon, Philippines.
One summer, a house in the neighborhood caught fire. The wind was strong, panic spread quickly, and the community was on edge.
Most of the houses were made of “anahaw,” making them highly flammable. I remember evacuating my grandparents’ home as embers floated dangerously close.
By God’s grace, our summer house was spared, and the fire was swiftly contained.
Though nearly three decades have passed, the memory remains vivid.
I can still feel the fear and worry as my family prayed fervently for safety, both for ourselves and our neighbors.
If the experience left such a deep mark on me, I can only imagine the lasting pain of those whose homes were consumed by the fire.
Now, as I watch reports of the devastating wildfires ravaging Los Angeles, my heart aches.
The loss of homes, treasured possessions, and, most tragically, loved ones is unimaginable. Each interview with an affected individual brings tears to my eyes.
Yet, amidst the heartbreak, I find solace in the resilience of the human spirit.
Communities are rallying together, offering generosity, support, and hope to those who have lost everything.
In a world marred by countless tragedies—the Jeju Air and Azerbaijan plane crashes, displacement of families, unnecessary loss of lives in war-torn nations, and raging wildfires—it’s easy to feel overwhelmed.
My heart is heavy for those who suffer, and my prayers are with them daily. These events also remind me of the fleeting nature of life and the futility of material possessions.
The Bible verse from Matthew 6:19-21 resonates deeply:
“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
Life on earth is temporary. Material possessions, careers, and wealth can vanish in an instant.
As I reflect on the ashes of Pacific Palisades and Altadena, I am reminded to place my hope not in earthly things but in my relationship with Jesus—the one constant that cannot be taken away.
To those who have been affected by fires—who have lost homes, workplaces, schools, churches, precious loved ones, or everything—there are no words sufficient to ease the pain.
I pray for your strength to endure, peace to carry on, and grace to rebuild.
May provision meet your every need, and may ho tope rise again in your hearts. For those standing amidst the ruins, unsure of how to move forward, know this: hope is not lost.
I also lift up prayers for the first responders. Their courage and tireless efforts in the face of unimaginable challenges deserve recognition.
May they be strengthened and protected as they continue their critical work.
The fires may have consumed possessions, but they cannot extinguish the spirit of resilience, compassion, and hope that burns brightly in the hearts of Californians.
These flames cannot take away the most precious gift: the hope that propels us to rise again. Los Angeles, you will rebuild. The world stands with you, offering prayers and solidarity.
To anyone enduring hardship—whether in a war-torn nation, facing illness, grief, depression, anxiety and uncertainty—lift your eyes to the Lord.
Psalm 121:1 encourages us, “I lift my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come from? Our help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
Psalm 34:18-20 reminds us that He is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.
We may not understand why tragedies occur, but we know who holds all things in His hands.
Trust that God is working everything for good. Look up, and let Him restore and renew what has been lost.
Hope remains, even in the ashes.
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