The Day the Barn Burned Down
The day after the fourth of July, my parents lost their enormous pole barn and all its contents to a fire, the source of which remains mysterious despite a thorough investigation. I will never forget the experience of running down the driveway in response to my daughter's terrified screams, and rounding the corner to discover flames rapidly consuming the building, faster than I could have imagined. One glance told me my parents were safe, and I knew all the other kids were out with Zach or back at my house. Mom had already called 911 and firemen were on the way. For a few surreal moments, all we could do was watch it burn.
Witnessing such a force of destruction and feeling my own powerlessness to stop it was profoundly unsettling. My dreams have been fraught with fire and explosions as my subconscious reckons with all the things I have to lose. My daily life has altered very little as the smoke has cleared, but the way I assess risk, the way I evaluate so many things, has shifted to allow for the reality that my people are not immune to tragedy.
It's one of those events that's difficult discuss honestly while striking the right tone: on the one hand, it was a truly catastrophic destruction of property, but on the other hand, it's just stuff. All my loved ones are here and safe, and with the news of the Texas flooding fresh in our minds, how can any one of us feel anything but gratitude? From the correct, eternal perspective, we all know you can't take it with you...but, to be perfectly frank, we were rather planning on using that tractor during our brief sojourn through this vale of tears. Fortunately, there is no rule governing one's emotional reactions to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune: we can give thanks and grieve in the same breath without insincerity.
Much of what was lost can be replaced. We're already working on plans to rebuild. However, one of the many things we stored in the barn was the raw materials for The Woodshop at Avalon. Every product you've received from us has been fashioned from boards in my father's vast collection of wood, and he knew the origin of every single piece. Whether it was cherry from the neighbor's tree that got knocked down in that storm, or walnut from my grandfather's garage that has been moved five or six times, because he knew he would find just the right project for it eventually--it all had a story. And it went up like so much tinder in the flames. That's one of those losses that no insurance company can replace.
Without that ready storehouse, our business is, as you might imagine, less tenable. So we have decided to put operations on hold for a season while we discern the best path forward.
I have updated the inventory on the website to reflect all that we have ready to ship, and we're offering free shipping on orders of $75 or more, so this might just be the sign you were looking for to get a jump on Christmas shopping. We'll be accepting orders for the next week before closing our metaphorical doors. We're hoping to be here for your custom projects if you can allow a generous timelines, but this may be the last chance for our standard inventory.
As my father likes to say, this is no surprise to God! We trust in our Heavenly Father's providence, and wait to see how He will continue his work of making all things new.