Here we are, as of this writing, headed into our second weekend in a row with snow in the forecast. Thankfully, it won’t be anything like last weekend’s foot-plus in some areas near me.

Last Saturday I was feeling pretty bored and lonely. Friends were busy with their families, and I try not to bother people during those times. But one friend (a fellow widow) happened to be free, so I texted her to see if she could chat for a while. Yep, I admit I get a little needy from time to time.

Bless her for stepping up! During our conversation, she mentioned how she had her gas fireplace on and how cozy it felt.

I have a gas fireplace too, and I used to run it for hours every morning during the fall and winter…until my power bill became significantly higher! So I stopped using it 2–3 years ago and honestly hadn’t missed it.

But her description of that cozy little world tempted me. So I flipped mine on and then made a last-second decision to go outside and blow snow that had drifted on the deck.

The moment I stepped outside, I smelled something “hot.” I glanced toward the fireplace vent and was horrified to see it smoldering.  I remembered instantly that I had never removed the bird nest from this past summer.

Yikes!

I tore back inside and flipped the switch off, then ran outside again just in time to see 6-to-8-inch flames shooting out of the vent, courtesy of that very combustible nest.

Double yikes!

Without thinking, just moving on pure adrenaline, I started throwing armfuls of snow onto the flames. (Thank God for that big snowfall!) After some angry sizzling, the fire died down. I kept packing more snow around and into the vent until I was sure every hot spot was gone. Then I finally cleaned out the nest I should have dealt with months ago.

For the next several hours I checked the vent every twenty minutes. By the time I went to bed, giant icicles had formed, so I figured the risk of anything reigniting was pretty much gone!

The whole ordeal lasted only a few minutes, but as the adrenaline wore off, I realized just how dangerous the situation could have become. If I hadn’t gone back outside, if I had settled onto the couch instead, how long would it have been before I noticed the fire? How much damage could it have caused? Could the flames have come back into the house?

The more horrible those scenarios became, the more grateful I was that God protected me from what would have likely become major damage.

But it also made me wonder how many times God has intervened in ways I never saw, diverting both small and large disasters with his quiet, sovereign hand.

And, just like this time, when the trouble was largely due to my own neglect, I suspect many of God’s rescue missions come after our own oversights.

My challenge to each of you isn’t necessarily to check your fireplace vent for bird nests (although it’s not a bad idea!), but to recognize the moments where God may have intervened on your behalf.

While scripture doesn’t spell this out, I still believe it would be very much like God to one day reveal all the times he protected and provided for us without our ever knowing. To look back and see his fingerprints all over our lives would be an incredible reason to give him glory.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;

when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,

and the flame shall not consume you.

Isaiah 43:2