We had a flue fire a couple of days ago. I was in the kitchen and first heard a strange sound, as if the refrigerator compressor was in overdrive. I went to look. Then I noticed the smoke coming out of the joints of the stove-pipe, and an ominous glow at the juncture of stove and pipe. A flue fire. I had never had one before, and it was distressing. My husband came in at my call and turned all the drafting vents closed while I called the fire department. I gave location, name and phone number and the 911 dispatcher (who is in Fredericton) immediately connected with the Perth-Andover Fire department. A few questions later, and it was obvious to me that the fire was out. I said so, but my contact at the fire department said they were coming anyway, just to make sure nothing was happening further up the chimney.
In the interval, Nicholas went to the barn to feed the animals and I cleaned the kitchen. I had bread and cinnamon rolls in the oven of the wood stove, so I transferred them to the electric oven. I did the dishes in the sink. I called my landlady and explained what had happened. I moved some furniture I thought would be in the way. I had windows and doors opened, and the dog shut in the bathroom. The trucks arrived before Nicholas was done in the barn.
Two trucks and an auxiliary car pulled into the driveway and yard. The house was suddenly full of firemen. (I know, I should say fire fighters, but they were all men.) It is a small house, and five firemen quickly fill it. They had a good look at the stove and stovepipe, brought in equipment to measure stack temperature, and unloaded ladders.
“It doesn’t smell like a flue fire,” one said. “It smells really good, like cinnamon rolls.”
It wasn’t necessary to take a ladder up to our steep, metal-covered roof, but they did take a thermal imaging camera to the attic. No hot spots. Cutting off the draft had put out the fire, and it was obvious that it had been quite hot as the stove-pipe was discoloured. I asked if it was still safe to use. “No problem,” said the fire marshal. “This happens all the time. We’ve had some weird weather, and that damp, heavy air drives the gases back down the chimney. You said you cleaned it.”
“Yes, we did it ourselves, with the nylon brush.”
“Oh, that Selkirk flue did its job then. That’s what it’s for – to insulate the hot gases from your walls. Good installation, too.”
Then they all stood around for a minute or two, commenting on the nice baked bread smell coming from the oven and on the virtues of our Amish-built Suppertime Stove. “I wish I’d bought one like that for my house,” one said.
They left a good deal of wet snow and mud behind on the kitchen floor, but I didn’t mind at all.
I got to tell the carpenter who installed the stove about the incident, and how the fire department complimented his installation. I also passed on that I had written to John Tschirhart in Ontario, who sold us the stove, and he said the installation sounded like a good one as well. Bob was pleased. He’d made a small error in the installation, which was that the hearth in front did not extend far enough out from the firebox door. His solution was to add a bright steel sheet in front, secured under the stone hearth, and held in place with level head screws. This works nicely, looks good, and doesn’t catch feet or extra dirt. He snipped the outer corners so that they won’t get caught on furniture or boots and curl. The shortage was only two inches, but he added seven inches and I am pleased with the way it looks. Bob had considered the same stove for his house, and perhaps regrets it a little that he didn’t get it now that he has installed mine.
The firemen and the carpenter were kind and interested in our concerns. Their visits were almost pastoral. Bob and I shared news of health and home since we last saw each other in the spring and he made a fuss over my Australian shepherd, Ash. She remembered him and was joyous to see him again.
I have not been shy to say that I anticipate a difficult winter. We are living on the edge financially. We do what we can to get by, and we know that there will be more sacrifices. Still, God has opened the hearts of many to lighten our burden. A neighbouring pastor brought us vegetables form his garden, and we are still eating those beans we froze. Other friends have helped in getting us settled in our barn; one is planning a trip soon to bring hay and leave with wool I still have from my Shetlands. She shipped me muslin when I couldn’t get it locally, and lots of fabric pieces. Another friend has given us needed lentils and wheat, herbal medicines and little treats, as well as delivering other herbs, and garden seedlings when we lost ours in a storm. Many friends sent me garden seeds this year, and we are blessed yet with pumpkins, squash and preserves from that harvest. A friend downriver brought me a seedling elder tree. A friend in the US mailed me two boxes of cotton dresses and skirts; I layer them on the cold days. Books have come from a friend in England. My landlady and her sister stopped by to give us a 10 kilo bag of flour, tangerines and potatoes.
Today I received an unexpected box of organic rice, herbal teas, and other useful products. The sender was anonymous. I’m fairly sure I know who it was by the postmark. Still, it was great fun – and the maple hard candies are delicious and soothing. Our church warden was running the bazaar end of the church luncheon and bazaar today, where I dropped in for a few minutes; I mentioned that I needed a new bobbin case for my ancient machine, and it would be a few days yet to get it. She said, “I have an older machine in my garage – it was my mother’s, and it was Dorothy’s before that. I don’t know how well it might run, but you are welcome to it.” I said I would pick it up tomorrow after church.
In the ancient ways of Israel, once a generation, every fifty years, a jubilee year was declared. Food that had been stored was distributed so that the fields could lie fallow. Debts were forgiven. Inequities were amended. Land was returned to its original owners if they had leased it out or sold it from economic necessity. Slaves were released. It was a year of thanksgiving and celebration.
In Luke 4:19, Jesus proclaims that He is there to announce a jubilee. It is the time of the Lord’s favour. As the Jamieson-Fausset-Brown Commentary says:
“(On 4.19.) acceptable year-an allusion to the jubilee year (Le 25:10), a year of universal release for person and property. (See also Isa 49:8; 2Co 6:2.) As the maladies under which humanity groans are here set forth under the names of poverty, broken-heartedness, bondage, blindness, bruisedness (or crushedness), so, as the glorious Healer of all these maladies, Christ announces Himself in the act of reading it, stopping the quotation just before it comes to “the day of vengeance,” which was only to come on the rejecters of His message (Joh 3:17). The first words, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me,” have been noted since the days of the Church Fathers, as an illustrious example of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost being exhibited as in distinct yet harmonious action in the scheme of salvation.”
Salvation has come; it is an everlasting jubilee.The enslaved are free, the debt forgiven. The goods are distributed and none is to be in want. Yes, from that day forward. And this is God’s creation, just as heaven is. Are we not to realize that jubilee now? Our sins, our debts before God, are forgiven. Are we forgiving others? Are we restoring what was taken unjustly? Are we distributing the bounty of God’s earth? Are we letting the land and water rest so it too can be revitalized?
It had been a Protestant teaching that the kingdom of God is yet to come, and our trials will be rewarded eventually. But Jesus came proclaiming “The Kingdom is at hand” – it is now. He proclaimed the year of the Lord’s favour – now.
Rather than gratitude for what we have received bountifully, we are acting like the wedding guests who would not come to the banquet. When I served communion in the church I would say to the people, “Come to the Lord’s table, for all is made ready for thee.”