I had a call on voice mail when I got up Friday morning and it was surprising news. My parents house that we moved into December of 1996 had burned to the ground the night before. My mother was the only one in the house when she realized it was on fire. She was able to get out safely and call the fire department but it was already too late. My parents are taking it well, they are empty nesters, so at least they don't have find places for their ten kids as they wait for insurance adjusters to tell them what to expect.
It is really weird because I don't really know other people who have had their house burn down. It seems like something that only happens on tv and not to actual people. Luckily my brother, Christian scanned a bunch of old photos onto facebook before he left on his mission. But there are still other photos and memorabilia that are lost forever.
If you have been guests at my parents house for dinner you may have seen our special family plates. We each had our own plate with a design. There were even extra plates made for the missionaries: a CTR plate and a St. Louis Temple plate. Last time I was home for Christmas my mother twisted my arm to bring my little family's plates back to Houston. I told her I wanted the plates to stay at her house because it was a Peterson tradition to eat on them there. But she prevailed. Now I am so grateful to have them, because if I hadn't taken them, they'd be burned to ash. Not to say that they can't be replaced, because they can and will be.
We are so blessed to have the memories we made at that house and all our friends that we shared them with. My dad was saying as Job, "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh, blessed be the name of the Lord." I am so blessed to have parents with that kind of faith.