Yesterday I was sweeping the fireplace ashes from a fire we made the night before.. Pretty mundane, don't you think? Oh, the seemingly innocent minutiae in my life... Once again, IN MY FACE, offering to bring deeper meaning. For me, this always births a blog. Did I mention that these ashes were still warm? This set my mind in motion. I placed the ashes outside, then rook off running...to my computer.

You see, when a blog is in my heart and my head, it must come out. I literally cannot focus on anything until these words you now read, are released from the forefront of my brain. I have no choice. It's just that way.

Most importantly, both the ashes and the blog have implications. The ashes could be a fire hazard if not disposed of properly. The blog entry? It's from my heart to yours. I chose to believe these entries come into my head for a reason. You and I have met via this blog for a reason. When left to their own devices, our hurting hearts guide us to where we need be.

Like heated embers, a heart filled with pain is never a good thing. Just like a real fire, it starts out as a slow burn, grows to a billowing, blazing, flame, that might, if not kept in check, threaten to burn a whole house down to the ground. A hurting heart holds pain that, like a house on fire, consumes us. Neither scenario ends well.

A house ablaze and a soul scorched leave us trapped, burning from the inside out. There are no quick fixes; no fire escape or ladder, no "stop, drop and roll," and certainly no 911 calls that can save us from what sizzles, smokes and smolders within our souls.

In my memoir, Room in the Heart: Surviving a Childhood Undone, Fulfilling a Pact to Love, I share how I tended that hearth within my heart, and watched it become a flaming inferno from about the age of 7 or 8 until age 45. This was no campfire, where my family and I could make s'mores and discover the joys of the great outdoors. This was a furious flame that burned through all the layers of what was me, leaving an empty soul; its remnants reduced to smoking ash. I lost my North Star, my GPS, my appreciation for anything. Moments spent with my husband and children were akin to eating a sandwich still covered with plastic wrap. My family was so beautiful and filled with wonder. Me? Not so much. Actually very little.

How many of us are trying to trudge through life when someone or something mistakes us for kindling? They strike the match, then there begins the slow meltdown. From that point on, we only stand to lose...friends, family, financial security, and the ability to feel beyond the numb throbbing of a heart barely beating. It doesn't have to be that way. We can reach out for help in keeping the fire contained, while we do our best to learn to heal. Don't be mislead; working through pain is painful! I guess it's kind of like how you can use grease to clean grease.

When pain meets pain, scar tissue is scraped away, leaving new, healing flesh. The fire cools to become a slow smolder. Eventually we are left with memories of the hurt and pain, and an eagerness to heal and begin anew. Sometimes we'll slide sideways and take a tumble, but our path from pain will be worth it all!

More than anything, I plead with you; reach out! You are NOT alone; find someone who will listen. Allow others to care, because they do, and they will. Notice I use the plural...THEY. After all, when was the last time you saw a fire truck with only one fireman? Just as it takes a crew to fight a fire, it takes our own admission, willingness, insight, and trust to fight the fire inside our soul.

With humility, I ask that you allow this blog to be the smoke detector within you. If the fire within your heart is an uncontrolled burn, reach out for someone. This journey is yours, and need never be paved with pain. Let it lead you to places where betterment is in abundance.

When you next see a firefighter, pat yourself on the back. You have fought one HELL of a fire, my friend...