Some changes come by choice. Others come with no warning at all.

A dear friend of mine, Merrily, recently lost her home in the California fires. Fifty years in the same house—gone in minutes. She and her neighbor were forced to flee at 3 a.m. with no time to pack, no time to think. She left with nothing but a toothbrush and her phone.

The fire destroyed over 9,400 structures, including more than 6,000 homes, across roughly 22 square miles, and claimed 17 lives. Entire neighborhoods were reduced to ash—including Merrily’s.

What do you do when the place that held your entire life—your memories, your photos, your treasures—is reduced to rubble?

You begin again. Somehow.

Can you imagine having to replace every item in your life at 81 years of age?  Every piece of furniture. Every dish. Every light bulb. Every piece of clothing. It boggles my mind—but not Merrily. She’s moving ahead, step by step.

I asked Merrily if I could share what she’s been through—because I’ve been so inspired by her resilience. Her response?

“Girl, if this blog can help just one person going through something like this, then by all means use my story.”

What kept her steady in those early days wasn’t just inner strength—it was the support of her neighbors. Her contemporaries. People who had also lost everything. The entire community of Altadena was devastated, but they stood together. They grieved together, remembered together, and now? They’re rebuilding—together.

They even formed a support group called Altagether, a neighborhood of survivors who continue to lean on each other. The bonds that grew from shared loss are unshakable.

Merrily is so aptly named. She’s always been optimism, sunshine, and hope personified. Even now. Especially now.

She went back once, the day after the fire. She took one last photo of what was left-a chimney standing alone in a sea of ash. And then she made the decision to move forward.

And while the support of neighbors was life-giving, Merrily made it clear she couldn’t have done it alone.  “I couldn't have made it without the incredible, unwavering support of my family,” she said. “My nephew and his wife had one comment—‘we got you’—and opened their home to me for the month it took me to get my bearings. After that, my cousin in Connecticut did the same and was instrumental in ensuring that I didn’t make any foolish mistakes or decisions.”

Not everyone from the Eaton Fire had that kind of lifeline. What happened to those who had nowhere to go? No relatives to take them in? That’s where community becomes everything—and Altadena has shown the world exactly what that means.

Merrily is no stranger to hard times—we’ve been friends for over 30 years, and I’ve seen her weather storms with grace. But losing your home and everything in it? That tops any hardship I can imagine. And still, she chooses joy.

Now she’s shopping. Decorating. Dreaming again. She could be bitter—and no one would blame her—but she’s chosen a different path.

That’s who I want to be when I grow up.

Life gives you thunderstorms? Pack your own sunshine.
My friend did.