As the sun set on January 7 on Mater Dolorosa, the 80 miles an hour wind gusts had been blowing down trees and ripping branches upon the streets of Sierra Madre, indeed, in the entire city of Los Angeles, all day long. The community sat down for dinner when they received word that there was a fire on Eaton Canyon Road, a few miles west of us. It spread rapidly and about an hour later, we received the first alert to prepare to evacuate. The wind was blowing easterly, and we were directly in its path.
The Retreat Center had about 60 guests staying overnight. The process to evacuate began. The community and the staff had everyone out in about 40 minutes. The official notice of a mandatory evacuation came at this time. As the last guests were leaving, we began loading up our cars for our own departure. Besides the five community members, there was Charles, a layman who lives there with us and a long-term guest, Eve, in the hermitage. By 8 pm, we were driving down Sunnyside Avenue as a police car drove by us blaring the message to leave immediately.
For a brief moment in our lives, we became just like all other people who suddenly found their lives disrupted by an Act of God or some act of violence. We had to go out into the night in search of a place to stay with little more than a suitcase of necessities.
What was most stressful for us was the waiting and the uncertainty of the moment. The first attempts to find a place that had rooms available were inept and ineffective. Finally, around midnight, each one of us had a bed and a warm room for the night. Each one of us went to bed, thankful that we were at least alive and together and wondering what the next day would bring.
The next day, morning found us disoriented and saddened by last night’s trauma. We awoke not able to follow our usual morning rituals, morning walks, cups of coffee, personal time of prayer and reflection in familiar surroundings, and eventually gathered together as a community in our tiny chapel for Morning Prayer and Eucharist. While those rituals can seem repetitive and rote, they give us a sense of identity and comfort because they define the purpose of our life and what is truly most important in life.
Eventually, we found ourselves seated in a diner, drinking coffee, ordering breakfast and making plans for the day. There was no joy in this gathering, only concerns and speculation about what had happened to our home and our ministry, what was destroyed and what was left behind. Calls and texts were constant, and we were at a loss as to what we could tell those who contacted us about what we had left behind the night before. We were overwhelmed with expressions of support, prayers and offers to help us in any way possible. Eventually, we put together a working plan. We needed to find out what had happened to our property. Fr. Febin and our chef, Ricardo Solda, decided to go and visit our property. We made plans to meet later on that day to hear their report. There is no blueprint for the day after.
As Local Superior, I went about contacting Province leadership, Passionists and friends who wanted to know more about our situation. And I began looking for something that would bring us out of our sense of helplessness and sadness.
We had found rooms very close to a classmate’s family, whom I had known since 1967. I asked if it was possible for us to have dinner at one of their homes. Without hesitation, they asked, at what time.
We gathered together late afternoon to listen to Fr. Febin’s report. He was plainly saddened by what he saw. The raging fire propelled by wind gusts of 70 miles, passed over all the property, from our gates to behind the Retreat Center. It consumed everything that could burn: trees, wooden structures, grass and shrubbery. But by some miracle of God, the Retreat Center was spared. Only minimal fire damage, just a couple of rooms. The visible damage within the building was caused by water from our fire sprinkling system and the fire fighters. Of course, the smoke damage will also be a concern when the cleanup effort begins.
Given the wide path and intensity of the fire, we did not suffer the same fate as those who completely or partially lost their homes and even their lives. As a community, we are very aware that we were spared. We are not mourning the loss of documents or photos or prized artwork or personal belongings. What we have can be cleaned or replaced if need be. I believe that the many prayers offered around the world for our wellbeing were heard.
At 6 pm, someone from my classmate’s family picked us up and took us to his in-laws home and sat us down to a banquet. That night we were surrounded by a loving and caring family. We drank wine, talked about our experiences and felt a true family bond. There must have been over 20 people there. The sadness, the isolation, the feelings of destruction and doom quickly evaporated from us as we entered into conversations with those around us. It was quite a contrast to our mood at our morning breakfast. I was the only one who knew all of them, but there was no doubt and each one of us felt welcomed and nourished by this family.
I am sure we all went to bed less anxious and concerned than the previous night. All of us are continuing to receive messages of support and prayers from all over the world. In the good times and the bad times, God allows us to deepen our understanding of being a Passionist Family.
Keep us in prayer. Our journey goes on and on.
Fr. Clemente Barrón, CP
Local Superior
Mater Dolorosa Passionist Community
