03/27/2026
Please shoot another prayer up for us today. My mom sent us this a few days ago and it just shattered me 💔😭
❤️ to “ Today was one of the hardest days I have ever faced.
Somehow I found the strength to get out of bed. Something deep inside me kept calling me to go back to see what remains of our beloved cabin, our home. I went alone. And in that quiet, in the stillness of what is left, I began to come to terms with the magnitude of what we have lost.
Not just the walls. Not just the things we spent years collecting to make it warm and ours. But the memories. The life that filled that space.
I stood there and remembered the endless hours Dad and Kayleb poured into building that porch, the heart of our gatherings. The place where we laughed, celebrated, and watched the most beautiful mountain sunsets together. I could almost hear the echoes of our voices.
My hands trembled and my heart ached as I walked through the ashes. Nothing could have prepared me for that moment. I tried to be brave. I took pictures, though it broke me to see that the spaces that once held so much meaning are now gone, living only in my mind.
I thought about the recipe drawer filled with handwritten treasures from Coco and Apita, and others passed down from dear friends like Julia, Fe, and Amarilys. Those were not just recipes. They were pieces of love, tradition, and connection.
I could not stop thinking about the piano that Kyler would play for me. Those beautiful hymns that filled my heart with so much joy every single time. The sound of those melodies once wrapped around that home and around my heart, bringing peace, bringing comfort, bringing closeness to God. And now, the silence feels overwhelming. It is a silence that echoes in a way I cannot explain.
I thought about the Jassu salon and spa, that sweet little space where my grandchildren laughed, played, and created their own little world over the past two years. Those moments were pure joy. To see it gone feels like a piece of their childhood was taken in an instant.
And Apita’s room… that is the part that breaks me the most.
That room was not just a space. It was a promise. It was a dream built with so much love. Every detail was thought out with hope in my heart that she would spend the rest of her life close to us. That we would be able to pour into her, care for her, love her, and give her all the attention she deserved in her later years. Walking through those ashes and knowing that her little haven is gone… it is a pain I cannot even begin to put into words. It feels like something sacred was taken. That loss sits so deep in my heart.
I looked toward where my book armoire once stood, holding my favorite books, my Bibles, my gardening dreams. The games we played for hours as a family, gone in an instant. My office, everything I had carefully built, business records, personal documents, my children’s achievements, trophies, church moments, homeschool memories I cherished so deeply, all of it gone.
No, I am not okay.
No, I have not had the strength to answer your calls.
And no, I do not know if or when I will ever fully heal from this loss.
There is a heaviness in my chest that does not go away. A quiet kind of pain that follows me in every moment. It is not just grief for things, it is grief for the life that lived within those walls. It is grief for the sounds, the laughter, the prayers, the hugs, the ordinary days that I would give anything to relive.
But I do know this. I must be strong. I must keep going.
And the reason I can say that is because of you. And because God, in His mercy, has given me another day. Another breath. Another opportunity to still be here, to still love you, to still walk this life with you even in the middle of this heartbreak. I may not understand why, but I am grateful that I am still here to hold on to what truly matters.
Thank you for your unwavering love. Thank you for your support, your patience, your presence, even when I have been silent. I truly believe I have the greatest husband, the most incredible children, and the most loving family anyone could ever ask for. That truth alone brings me comfort in the middle of this pain.
We may be starting over from nothing. Very little was recovered, and even those things carry the weight of smoke and loss. But what the fire could never take is what matters most.
The time we shared there.
The laughter.
The love.
The memories we created together.
That is what I will hold onto. That is what I will carry forward.
Thank you for showing up. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being the greatest gift in my life.
With all my love,
Momma Bear, Marlent
https://www.gofundme.com/f/god-will-restore-standing-with-marlent-and-rudy
