By Sara Albertson, Northwest Region

It's not if disaster will strike, it's when.

It's a phrase I've heard often as a Red Cross Volunteer. This weekend showed me just how true it is. 

One moment, I was stirring applesauce on the stove, half watching and half avoiding a scary movie on TV. The next, I was in my car driving 45 minutes to Auburn to respond to a house fire. 

At first, I couldn't help but think about how far away it was. But as I drove, I passed familiar landmarks: the H Mart I used to shop and the IKEA where I bought furniture for my first apartment. Suddenly, it didn't feel far away at all. It felt like my community. 

There's always an uncertain moment when arriving at a fire scene. You don't know who the families are, what they've lost or how they’re coping after experiencing something so traumatic. 

That uncertainty faded quickly when I handed a woman a blanket and noticed she was wearing the same ripped jeans sitting in my dresser at home. 

"I have those jeans too," I told her. "I know you must be cold." 

We both laughed and, for a moment, exhaled.

It was a simple reminder that we weren't so different. 

As we wrapped up that response, we were notified of another fire just 10 minutes away. Nearing 1 a.m., we headed out again. 

This time, we met a family who primarily spoke Spanish, a language I don't know. Despite the language barrier, we still found ways to connect. One of the young men tried hand warmers for the first time. Even though we didn't exchange many words, we seemed to say the same thing to each other:

"Aren't these magic?"

The next day brought three more disaster responses.

While driving to one of those calls, I realized it was only nine minutes from my old apartment. I passed my favorite teriyaki restaurant, drove by the rock my dog always insisted on sniffing and got stuck at the same red light that always seems to last forever. 

Once again, it didn't feel far away. It felt familiar. 

When we met the clients, they were soft-spoken and incredibly kind. As we talked, I found myself reflecting on all the people I had met over the previous 24 hours.

They came from different backgrounds, spoke different languages and faced different circumstances. Some had lost houses. Others had lost tents.

Yet every interaction felt connected by the same truth: disaster doesn't discriminate. 

This weekend reminded me that the people we serve aren't strangers. They're our neighbors. They shop at the same stores, wait at the same stoplights, wear the same jeans, and find wonder in the same little things. 

Disasters can happen anywhere, at any time. It's not a matter of if, but when. 

And when they do, I'm grateful the Red Cross is there to offer comfort and a reminder that no one has to face their hardest moments alone.

I am incredibly honored to be a part of that mission.