The cool evening last night made us decide to turn on our fireplace. “Turn on” truly is the operative word in our new-to-us home. We turned on the gas and lit the pilot light for the season. With the pilot duly lit, the fireplace is now controlled by a light switch in the wall. I flip the switch, and, poof, flames appear in our fireplace. Not only that, but this super-high efficiency fireplace actually heats the room. It is certainly a convenient way to have a burning fire that is also good for the heating bill and the environment.
I wish I could say that I liked it.
I grew up with a wood-burning fireplace. I still have childhood memories of sleeping in front of the fireplace during a weeklong ice-storm-induced power outage. We all smelled like wood smoke, but the logs kept us warm as we roughed it. The first house that Andy and I lived in did not have a fireplace, but we made sure that our next house did. When Andy and I moved up to a gas starter in a wood-burning fireplace, it felt a little like cheating. Our last house had a gas fireplace with fake logs, but at least we got to use a real lighter to light it. I grew to enjoy the convenience of being able to put out the fire by turning off the gas, even as I still longed for the crackle and smell of a wood fire.
But this house has a fireplace controlled by a light switch. It makes no illusion of being “real” fire. The logs, sealed behind glass, sit at unnatural positions, and the warning label clearly states that repositioning the logs carries great risk of catastrophe. The flames are eerily uniform, which makes watching the fire somewhat akin to watching the burners in the furnace. And the heat that it produces is so strong that, last night, we had to turn it off after only a few minutes.
I miss the real thing. I really do. Don’t get me wrong- my life will still have meaning and purpose, but the smell of wood smoke on a chilly day will always conjure up memories. I’ll be thankful for the warmth this winter, but something will be missing.
I just now looked up from my typing to realize that I now have a wood-burning fireplace in my “vintage” office. That fireplace hasn’t been used in years, but what could go wrong? Hey, it just goes to prove what I’ve been saying; it’s at God’s place that we find what’s really real. (And, if you notice that the pastors and staff of First Church smell smoky, you’ll know why!)
