AAAAHHHHH..... Christmas

The season of Christmas is finally upon us !

And while the Christmas season is full of meaning to so many people, it holds a very special place in the heart of firefighters. Anyone who has seen a Christmas parade know that if the "REAL" Santa Claus puts in an appearance, he invariably does so from the vantage point of a Fire Truck.

Now there are some caveats here- for instance; this is usually a platform, or ladder truck, but that is simply for the sake of visibility. Any firefighter worth his salt knows that Santa was a "Pump" man. I'll offer this as proof : He's always wearing that suit ( appears insulated to me), those turnout boots and gloves, ( I would have picked a different color than white, but who am I to judge Santa? I'm sure the man has his reasons.) He makes entry through a  dark place where there's usually fire, and the fact that he's always "first due".

What do I mean, First Due?
I'm glad you asked. Even if you subtract the number of households world-wide that don't believe, or that have no knowledge of the "Santa" story, that would still ( I'm guess-ta-mating here) leave a cool 4-6 BILLION people to visit between midnight on Christmas Eve, and Dawn of Christmas Day. There's just NO WAY to get that kind of performance out of an aerial truck. Besides, they say a picture is worth a thousand words, so I'll save you some reading here. I found this picture online:

Santa, on  what is obviously a "Pump"

That's obviously a pump. And if you find/read it online, it has to be true, Right ?! I rest my case.
 Anyways, the whole point of this little diatribe is not to insult "truckies", It's to point out that there is a close relationship between the celebration of our biggest holiday, and the Fire Service in general. Firefighters, like everyone else; find themselves caught up in the joy of the giving spirit, and wrestling with the child-like glee of fostering "good will" towards our fellow man.

I especially delight in this quote from " A Christmas Carol". I found it (Yup, online again), and share it with you now. Isn't that what Christmas, and in fact the whole story of Christ is about? Opening your heart Freely to those below you? And I'm not just referring to Truckies here. ( Sorry, I couldn't resist.)
But in a Country so violently polarized, where people are convinced that THEIR viewpoint is truth, and everyone else is wrong- when we are so divided, isn't this just the Holiday spirit we need?

I invite you this season- inject some of the spirit in which Christ came into your holiday. Remember- He never called us to contend on his behalf, but rather to embody his earthly example. In the middle of your " hustle and bustle" take time to remember what it's about. These folks in this next clip did precisely that. When I watched it, I realized immediately that the God I know and love was there in that place, with those people. As the mechanics of the "Holiday Machine" ground to a halt, people all over this mall seemed touched by the presence of GOD.

Is there something I can do ? Someway to stop my busy schedule, and show the love of Christ to those I generally find myself at odds with, or racing against? I certainly hope so. These people did, and I'd like to leave you with their example:

Merry Christmas!! And God Bless Us... Everyone!

LOVE WILL KILL YOU

"Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds onto life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you'll have it forever, real and eternal." John 12:24-25 (msg)

firefighter Acosta points to the location of engine 10 on 9/11/2001

 Tomorrow is the anniversary of the September 11th attacks that cost 2.996 innocent people their lives. The day will arrive, and statements about loyalty, honor, and courage abound. For the briefest of moments, everyone is stirred, and everyone is vocal. For a dozen years, I said nothing when 9/11 rolled around. 
I said nothing because I had no idea what to say, or how to communicate what this day makes me feel. 


What is there to Say?

On September 11th, 2001, a vast company of men and women; firefighters and first responders, became Heroes. Rising above the ashes of their own destruction; the blinding light and crush of rubble, they were NOT destroyed. They were transformed. The world stood still as they underwent their Apotheosis- from human to HERO; transcending the tangled steel, the choking smoke and dust.

For me, it feels almost sacrilegious to even speak of it.

What do I know of the dedication that takes ? What words would I speak to remind others of the meaning of sacrifice? There is nothing I can contribute to the statement, that they; with their lives, have not already written.

343.



That is the most I have written about 9/11/2001 in more than 13 years. I have always wanted to say something, but have consistently stumbled at communicating how deeply it has effected my life. It was perplexing, looking for some deeper meaning in all of this, seeking words to put here, and coming up empty every time. I often thought that having the opportunity to see the site for myself would provide the clarification I was seeking, and December 2014 I got that chance.


I dressed in the darkness that morning, imagining what it was going to be like to finally stand at Ground Zero. I didn't completely understand why, but I knew that I would want to leave some token of respect there at the memorial-- I had no idea what. As silly as it may sound to some people, I picked up a patch from my department, and slid it into my pocket before heading downtown via the subway. I stopped at Engine 10, and walked through the station, just a stones throw from the site. One of the firefighters took me on a brief tour, and then I made my way through a cold and steady drizzle to the memorial. I marveled at the "survivor tree", found alive beneath the rubble, and coaxed back to life. I stared up at the freedom towers- still under construction, disappearing into a stormy sky. I did my best to take it all in, and to come to terms with what this horrible and cowardly act had meant to me.

While I  try to describe for you what I felt, I still find myself struggling for words.The skies were dark, and the rain poured, matching the swirling emotions within me. I was angry, I was sad, I was in awe. Goose bumps walked the surface of my skin as I looked over the list of names bordering the infinity pools. I felt so many different things- pride and anger, sadness and desire- all at once.

The Patch I left at Ground Zero

 I reached in my pocket, and pulled out the patch from my department. As I placed it on the memorial, I wondered if those guys knew the solidarity and admiration the rest of us feel for them. I stayed as long as the weather allowed, trying to memorize every detail.
On the subway ride back to the hotel, I realized I had no more answers than I started this day with. I was disappointed. What was supposed to answer all the questions, instead left me feeling even more disconcerted.

 I have thought about that visit many times since.
 I think if you were inclined to look, you would find a commonality in all of us who take up the yoke of "Firefighter". Burning in the heart of all of us there's a little "I want to save the World".  But saving the world is a dangerous mission, and sometimes a suicidal one. Sometimes, like on 9/11; wanting to save the world will kill you.


What could make someone surrender their own life for the sake of another?
Only Love.
In the scripture above, Christ has just made his triumphant entry into Jerusalem. The excitement of his recent resurrection of Lazarus has preceded him. Caiphas and the rest of the priesthood, worried that the Romans will come and " take away their place", seek to kill him. He could have walked away- in fact; the disciples urged him to do just that.
Love made him stay. You see, He wanted to save the world too, and at ANY cost.
 It's staggering to think that the Creator of all the universe values his love for humanity more than he valued his own "physical" life.
 Love killed him.
It killed Him, and in doing so gave me life.


On September 11th, 2001, Love killed 343 firefighters.
It killed those brave men and women, but there is no way to estimate how many lives they saved... and maybe it's better that way.

I'll leave you with this little bit of "Ragamuffin Theology".
 It doesn't matter whether you believe it or not, LOVE is all that's required of man. To love GOD, and to love our neighbors on this "Communal Rock" as much as we love ourselves. Jesus himself said this concept is what the entire law is built upon. ( Mark 12:28-34) That same kind of Reckless, "ALL IN" Love.


 Yeah, maybe loving like that will kill you, but it's the only way you can be truly Alive.
   

  

  

"Leaders scrub tires."

"Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too." (Philippians‬ ‭2‬:‭3-4 NLT)



It's 11:04pm. Most firefighters pulling duty tonight; whether here at station 1, or in firehouses all over this great country are soundly asleep. I imagine their peaceful snores rumbling softly in bunk rooms, battling for supremacy with the modulations of oscillating fans. But me? I am DEFINITELY not asleep.

I am horizontal though, on the unforgiving concrete of a bay floor. You would think unforgiving concrete would at least have the decency to be cool to the touch, but this concrete didn't get the memo. I am sweating profusely, with a handful of tools and cleaners strewn around me, just in front of the Officer's side front tire of our rig, a 2010 Rosenbauer custom cab. I'm lying there because "I", a firefighter with 16 years experience, a good firefighter, a capable firefighter.... have made a truly humbling mistake. I lie here sweating; watching the long arms of the clock march resolutely past their appointed rounds, feverishly attempting to scrub the red and yellow curb paint from one colossal tire.

YUP. That's right... I did it- I ate up a curb in a truly spectacular fashion. With a rig full of guys, I bought, paid for, YAY- completely "OWNED" a section of curb coinciding with the location of our last call. To hear the guys tell it, the curb was equivalent in size to the GREAT WALL OF CHINA, and I was driving like a winged mammal from the nether regions. Anyone who understands firefighters at all knows the second my tire made contact with that curb, ( much more gently than they will ever acknowledge)  I was gonna pay.... (sigh) ...and pay I did.
For the remainder of their waking hours, the guys heckled and laughed ( I would NEVER do that to them, just by the way.) making fun of the guy who despite a wealth of knowledge and experience, had committed a rather egregious "Rookie" style mistake.

Later that night, after a phone call from someone who pretended to be Law Enforcement; calling to make a report on a severely damaged curb- the guys actually tried to help with the tire fiasco. While I sweated over a hot stove preparing dinner; they took the truck around back, washed her clean and scrubbed at the tire.It wasn't their responsibility, and I am truly grateful they did.When I went into the bay later that night, However; the tire was still less than "acceptable". I knew what I should do.

So now it's ODark30, and I'm scrubbing tire, humbled and annoyed with myself, angry that I could make this kind of mistake. I'm past this! Heck, I was past this YEARS ago. Newbies hit curbs and make silly mistakes, not guys like me. The words puddle hollowly between my arrogant ears, or maybe it's the sweat- at this point, I'm too tired to tell.

My mind follows the thread of negative thought deeper, and I actually question myself. " What am I doing here ?" I'm a forty year old firefighter. That slowly sinks in. "40?! FIREFIGHTER ?! WHY are you still a firefighter at 40? Why am I here? - lying on the floor, scrubbing my mistake off of a truck tire? The anger says I'm better than this, deserve better than this....and I wonder about my decisions in my career... whether they were smart decisions or desperate ones. I've consistently thought of myself as a capable firefighter, and a proven leader. Leader?  leaders don't make mistakes like this.... do they?  

I absolutely don't feel like a leader. 

But then again, what is leadership? Is it the guy who gets to make every decision, who calls the shots? Is it the guy who finishes first every race ? The guy who gets it right every single time?!
No, It's none of these things.

I encouraged myself with the fact that I was doing the right thing, refusing to turn over a truck that still needed detailing or fueling. I would stay up, and get this done because it's the kind of things "leaders" do.But the truth is the truck was my responsibility. Even if my "standard of care" is a little higher than someone else's might be, that alone doesn't make me a leader.

I hear a noise above me, and look up. My captain, a man whom I respect, and who's leadership I readily acknowledge, has walked out into the bay. " Whatcha Doin' Phil?" he chuckles. " Don't you know what time it is?"
I laugh, and then explain myself; why I couldn't let the truck sit at 78% fuel, and with paint on the tire. I'm kind of proud that he walked out here after finishing his duties, and has seen me scrubbing the tire. I hope it makes a statement about me. Maybe I am a leader after all.

We talk for a second, me lying on the hard, greasy concrete, and the captain standing above. When he turns away, I think he's leaving, and start back to work. It's not until he lies down on the other side of the tire, rag in one hand, cleaner in the other, that I realize what he's doing.
For a few minutes we work in silence, and I am understandably humbled again. After the conversation resumes, we talk shop; laugh at a few old stories. We break out the wax, and shine some of the chrome on the rig, chasing away her water spots.

When we finally finished working,  it was almost 2 am. I put up the cleaners, put the rags in the bin, and headed toward the bunk room. I was exhausted. As we parted ways in the hall, I look down at the captains hands- They are every bit as dirty as mine. I couldn't help thinking as I walked away, "I guess I was right after all....

... Leaders Do Scrub Tires."

"By humility and the fear of the LORD are riches, and honour, and life." - Proverbs 22:4

READY FOR ANYTHING

 It's summer again. I know this because the temperature outside is currently somewhere between "Good GOD, it's hot! - and "Surface of the Sun!". I also know this because the critters in the CSRA are out in force.                                                                                                      My station is located in an area that is bordered by "woods" behind the station, and is often frequented by unexpected and unwanted visitors. A few shifts ago, this little guy was crawling around the bay looking for an easy lunch. A friend and fellow firefighter almost stepped on him. Last year around this time, another firefighter at the same station came face to face with a scarlet king snake! Just FYI, The scarlet King snake is a very small, very harmless snake, that looks remarkably like a very small, very harmful snake, and all of this happened at 3 am, in the kitchen of the station!!                                                                                               The snake the king snake resembles is a coral snake, and is the most venomous snake in North America. In the parts of the southeast where you may encounter this snake, we teach the children a little rhyme: " Red touches yellow- kill a fellow. Red touches black- friend of Jack." Thinking about the encounter is amusing to me; but then, I've never had to remember that rhyme at 3am, groggy with sleep, when all I really wanted was a glass of water.                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Both situations remind me of a similar one in my past, where I fought a structure fire with what was most likely an equally surprised, and quite upset, spider inside my turnouts. The nasty little creature remained quiet and immobile until we arrived in the room of fire origin, and I opened the nozzle. Then springing from her hiding place in a perfectly coordinated attack, she proceeded to bite me at the junction of my shoulder blade and neck, ( the only place I couldn't reach with my gear on) at least three times. Adding to the confusion, my Officer began questioning me, quite loudly- and with an ample smattering of  scalding and unrepeatable adjectives and adverbs, as to my previous history of seizures and/or Tourette's.

The short version of the story ends with a dead spider of unknown species, and a firefighter wandering the station for the rest of the day wondering whether or not he was imagining being nauseous, and a myriad of other signs and symptoms.It's almost as funny as encountering a snake of indeterminate species on the floor of the kitchen at 3am.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       While all of us understand the importance of staging your gear in a manner which allows for quick deployment, I now find myself more aware of the manner in which I stage mine. Prior to the "spider incident of '03" as it's commonly known; ( at least by me) I would stage my gear on the floor of the bay, with boots and pants, jacket and helmet, outside of the pump. Not so now. Having fought one fire with the "volunteer spider" is enough for me. I'm very careful now as to the condition of my gear, and how it's staged. And you should be too.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 But I'm also reminded of this: We are all aware of the common dangers we face on scene. We all respond to the issues we think could affect us when we're in "firefighter" mode. But what about the little things around the station? What if my friend Rocky had stepped on that copperhead? What if the spider in my gear had been a "Black Widow" ? We can't control all of these things, but we can be more aware, and take steps to insure they are less likely to occur.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Even more profound is the way in which this impacts my observations on faith. I do my best to be on guard against the big things that could shipwreck my faith. But what about the little things that creep in unaware? Today I'm aware of the comparison between these stories and the little things that have crept into my heart...The way "little foxes" spoil the vine.( Song of Solomon 2:15)                                       How perspective changes, and the place where we feel most safe may be the place where we pick up an unwanted hitchhiker -- hurting us in our own house, or making us ineffective as we strive to help others.                                                                                                                                                                    

   

                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

Finish the Drill !

The Completed Project

     The last few weeks, My partner and I have been using our spare time at Engine 12 to work on a special project. It's nothing spectacular, but several months ago, we were looking at the pathway that leads to our training center. This area is the first thing visiting departments see when they arrive here, their first impression of our department. We thought it could use some "dressing up". My Partner was able to secure a flag pole for the station, plus some donated materials from his second job, and a close friend. With nothing but a vision of what this should become, we began working; sometimes long into the night.

Bobby and I "@ work" 

This is what we envisioned.
   Candidates crossing the apron ( The concrete pad in front of the station) would approach the pathway to the training center and see in front of them an entryway... two Small pillars, with low walls of fieldstone and masonry that vanish back into the hillside.The top of the Plaques are adorned, one with the Fire department/ training center logo; the other with a motivational quote. As they trudge up the hill, they'll first cross a tiled "landing area" of fieldstones cut and arranged into a Maltese cross pattern with Engine 12's number in the center. Beside this landing area, we created a pedestal... the American flag flies proudly above, a statue of a firefighter standing vigilant beneath. We hoped it would be inspirational. The simple truth is that during the hours of training in full turnout, or in the early hours of  morning, our work will probably go unnoticed. But we knew this when we began. So why do it ? Let's come back to this question a little later.

  "The Project" began to take on a life of it's own. Somehow, ( Hard to believe I know) we had grossly underestimated the amount of work involved. The weather turned cold. The mortar didn't want to set. We ran out of supplies, and we kicked in our own money and our off time. At times it was very frustrating. Some days one of us would not really be interested in working, sometimes both of us would be frustrated with the whole thing. But we pressed on, and now as the project nears completion, we have a sense of pride in the work it took, the thing we created with our hands; for our department and fellow firefighters.

   Now, let's revisit that question of "why do this?" On most days, yes it will probably go unnoticed. But I know ( because I've been there) there will be days when a firefighter ( maybe me) will be walking to the training center; cold or hot, wet, hungry, and exhausted. In his mind the question will arise, "I don't feel like being out here, we just did this, why are we doing this ... AGAIN ?"  He'll look up, and see the entry way, the vigilant firefighter on guard beneath our flag, the pride in that Maltese cross. His eyes will drift to the department logo emblazoned to his left, and then over to the pillar on his right. Engraved on a small plaque will be a phrase that reminds him- " Don't give up. Finish the drill. Do it again. Then when you've finished that, Do it again." He'll pause for a moment, maybe reflect... drawing from the reserve of determination that flows deep within all of us, he'll pat the statue on the helmet with his wet gloved hand, and trudge slowly up the hill to the training ground. Onward... TO DO IT AGAIN.

   And this is what it's about. That firefighter. Because all of us know that one day, someone may be counting on US to go just a little bit further, hold on a little bit longer. To finish the drill.Because Firefighters... REAL Firefighters... don't practice until they get it right. They practice until they can't get it wrong.


  "Excellence is an art won by training and habituation. We do not act rightly because we have virtue or excellence, but we rather have those because we have acted rightly. We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not a trait but a habit.

Thanks for reading, and GOD bless. 

Like a Boss

On August 24^th, The Hampton Fire Department hosted it’s first “Hampton Hometown Heroes” 5K. The race benefited firefighters Catlin Schroyer and Jordan Eaddy., both of whom are battling serious medical issues.

Kaila Bishop, Jordan Eaddy's fiancee' poses with the guys.

Several firefighters from site had already decided to run together in a show of support, when Firefighter Tony Smiley, who had participated in previous runs wearing full turn out gear, suggested this option to the group.

The entire group agreed this would be a great idea, either because we lacked appropriate amounts of intelligence, or perhaps because Smiley could sell ice water to a drowning man. Since we are firefighters I think a decent argument could be made for the first reason. It kind of reminds me of what my dear old Granddad used to say, looking at me and slowly shaking his head; “Boy” he would say, “If you’re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough.”

 Yeah, I don’t get it either.

Half way point. The red headed Guy is Alex Murray, Burton Fire.

Seriously, Why did we feel the need to wear “turn-out”, almost 60 extra pounds of gear, on a 3.1 mile run ? I can’t speak for everyone, but Jordan’s story inspired me. Several months ago, Jordan received a very grim prognosis, and at a point when most people would have just given up, he instead adopted a neon, lime-green slogan that simply says “Like a Boss”; a catchy little phrase that doesn’t indicate what you intend to do, but rather how you intend to do it. This was how he intended to fight his illness, and how he continues to fight it even today. Jordan decided he was going to fight “Like a Boss”. How then could we; his “brothers”, not run the same way?

You could say the story here is about accepting challenge, and forging ahead even when the outcome is unpredictable, or worse yet, all too predictable. But it’s also about Firefighters Loretta Williams (She was there on her birthday!) and Christopher Foster, who refused to cross the finish line until we did. They waited for us, then ran that last stretch to the finish alongside the formation, cheering us on.It's about Alex Murray, who did a lot of legwork (pun intended) to help this run happen, put his gear on and ran with us, and is now assembling firefighter runners from all over to run for "code 3 for the cure" a non-profit Cancer support group.  It’s about Firefighters, Law Enforcement, and EMS workers from all over the south coming together for a common cause. Just people helping people, in whatever way they feel most capable.

And then there's this:In the Facebook support group page for Jordan, there is a video of our finish. In the comments, Laura Eaddy said that her Brother watched the video and said “Those guys are awesome.” And for me, that’s what it’s really about. 

I like to think that for just a moment, Jordan was just as inspired by our effort as our effort was inspired by him.

SRSFD Firefighters Jay Evans, Christian Logan, Dwayne Sanford, Tony Smiley, and Phillip Weathers. 

                                                                       

Diary of a Divorcee, Part 1

  Even now, sitting here in front of this screen; I am unsure of EXACTLY what it is that I am doing. And I'm okay with that. I'm okay, because I have seen with my own eyes the elephant in the room.

ELEPHANT?
   
  Yeeeessss,  I guess it could have been a Gorilla, but I prefer to think of it as an elephant. A gorilla may or may not be out of place, depending on what kind of party it is, but an elephant? Elephants definitely DO NOT belong in the parlor. And even though he doesn't belong, the majority of us would be more content to distribute our guest's tea cups around the elephant, maybe cover him with a doily... anything to avoid discussing his presence. But he's not going away just because we refuse to deal with him.

So what is this Elephant, Phillip ?

I'm glad you asked. The Elephant is simply the number of real Christian men and women who, for whatever reason, suddenly find that they are now divorced.   WHOAA!!!! Wait a minute... Stay with me. I'm not here to discuss the biblical obligations, or the ramifications of divorce. I'm not willing to get wrapped up in a debate about ethics
.
This is about people.

Maybe not "YOU", maybe it's other people;but it's people that no matter what side they were on, are REALLY  hurting. People that want to know that someone else understands the way they are hurting, and has felt the same wash of anger, frustration, and bitter loss.
 I have often thought someone should tell these people they are not alone, should NOT be concerned with how they themselves will be perceived. They should lower their guard, let people think what they will, and hope that their laughter, or tears, makes them feel a little less alone.They should understand this need, hear it begging to be filled, and step up to the plate. Someone should.

   I didn't want to be that person. Not because I didn't want people knowing what was going on with Phillip or because I was worried what they might think about me. 
Oh,..Wait --  It was for precisely those reasons.
Regardless, I will still do this, even if everyone I know hates it.  I will not try to teach any lessons or show anyone how to do things better. This is my life. This is real. I've been there too. Draw your own conclusions.   Let's begin with this date...... and boy was it a doozey

1/23/09

   Today. Today began like most others, with a sunrise. The alarm goes off (mine really makes the MOST annoying set of beeps in the whole world.),  It starts off at a low volume, a steady beep-beep, beep-beep.  The beeps seem to say: "get-up, Phil -up".  The longer it goes unattended the louder it gets... building to somewhere between the neighbor's dog barking, and a jet engine. BEEEP-BEEEP-BEEEP!!, BEEEEEEP-BEEEEEEP-BEEEEEEP!!!! "GET-OUTTA- BED!" "WHO CARES-THAT-YOUR- DEPRESSED!!!".  I lay there until there's a knock on the door. It's the neighbor's dog. He's annoyed because he's trying to sleep and my alarm is keeping him up.

   So I get up. I go to my second job today, a job I took because I couldn't handle the days I was spending alone, and because it pays me money.
The night before, I had called the EX. She thought she had kidney stones and no longer has health insurance. She doesn't have health insurance because I refused to pay for her insurance after the divorce. We get along for the most part, but I (much to my chagrin) had taken her insurance away right after the divorce. I didn't take anything from our home and I let her have whatever terms she asked for. I NEVER wanted to be divorced, and the pain was too much,.. I couldn't fight her.
 I carried enough guilt without that. I KNOW  that for the last two years of our marriage, I did absolutely nothing to remind her how special she was, or to love her the way Christ loves the church. I had resented the fact that she stayed home with the kids while I worked two jobs, and still struggled to make ends meet.
I resented her, because everything I did was for her, and I knew that I wasn't getting it done. If I wasn't getting it done, it couldn't be my fault right? It had to be because of the demands I perceived were being leveled at me, to give more, make more, get better things, not for me, but for her.
Demands which, just by the way, she never actually verbalized. I found out later, these expectations were phantoms.When she pointed out that she had never asked me for those things, I could only reply  "But that's what I FELT I had to do... I knew you deserved better than what I was giving."
 When I found out that another man was in the picture, spending more time with my children than I did, I was furious. I stormed into H.R. at my job, and with a stroke of the pen, snatched away her insurance. I could have simply asked her to reimburse me. She would have. But I didn't. I was angry, and I reacted. And Now, I am Ashamed.

  As I get ready for work, the conversation of the previous evening echoes in my head. Hearing the pain in her voice, my kids playing in the background. I had gotten on the phone with them, told them how much I missed and loved them, and then I cried... alone. I miss my children... A LOT. I know they don't understand, and they hurt too. I know WE  are responsible for that, And I am ashamed.   When we got off the phone, I had offered to take the children, even though I also heard her boyfriend in the background. I fought down anger, and then resentment, and offered anyways. Not a real sacrifice. They are my children.  And even though I've had them 4 days out of the last week, I would take them again. The brief periods when they are with me are the brightest spots in my "divorced life."

   She said she would call back and never did. So I called her this morning. No answer. I brush it off and go to work.  I work part time for the family YMCA, in the water, four hours at a time, doing therapy with autistic children and patients with spinal cord injuries, or illnesses that make conventional land therapy impractical.I am NOT a therapist, but I work for one.   The day is full, and just distracting enough so I don't really have to think much about the EX/SICK/KIDS situation. It's over quickly.  I fill another hour or so working out in the gym before I go home.
 On the way home, I see that I've missed a call from her, so I call back.    She answers this time, And I am overwhelmed with sympathy. She sounds pitiful. I want to drive to where she is, and take her o the hospital myself. Instead, I get on the interstate and head home. She says she knows I have to work at the fire station tomorrow , and doesn't want me to get the kids. She has help she says. I hear him in the background. He's playing X-box with my stepson, and they are laughing and talking in excited tones.I feel like an outsider looking into the world that should have been mine, and I feel alone. So I ask to speak to Jaime (my stepson), and as he's telling me he loves me, I hear something else.

     I can visualize what happened. My youngest (two) has strolled up to the television and displaying his knack for mischief has gotten in the way of the screen, or hit a button to change the channel. In a loud voice, I hear "this guy" say "UN-UH!".
 He's correcting my son!! .my blood boils.
I try to hold it together, but when my EX is back on the phone I tell her what I intend to do if I EVER hear him raise his voice to my kid again. I ask her to handle the situation, but she hangs up on me.In my anger, I've completely forgotten how sick she is, how little she needs this right now.
  A second later the cell rings, and it's her number.
 I answer, but it is most definitely not her. "THIS GUY"  is confronting ME, saying he didn't do that and now-- WELL-- Now it's on. Like Donkey Kong.

  Trying to refrain from verbiage that could land me in jail, I inform "the guy" that I HEARD HIM say "UN-UH" to my child  (is this sounding ridiculous to anyone yet?) and he had better never address me again, in any fashion.I'm so angry I'm shaking. I hang up. 
 What just happened? It was so quick, I don't even know. I know I'm angry, angrier than I've been in quite a while.
As my blood pressure returns to normal, I know something else.

 I know that what I just did is sin.

Later on I pray, and ask God to forgive me. He lets me know that I have to ask the same of this man and my EX. So I text message an apology... it is all I can do at the time. I can't fix this, and I feel helpless, lonely, and  ashamed.
I have just failed to be Christian in a situation where it could have made a world of difference.   Why?  Because he said "un-uh" to my kid.
WOW... Phillip, way to blow things out of proportion.

   Tonight I try to remind myself that we all fail sometimes, and that God is merciful. But today, I know that I could have done better, and I am ashamed. I tell myself I am only human, and mistakes happen. It sounds lame, even in my ears. Today I confused emotions, allowed myself to be reactive, and severely crippled my witness. 
Why? 

Because someone whose presence I resent told my child "un-uh." Tonight I AM ASHAMED.

I Think Jesus was a Firefighter

All across America today, thousands upon thousands of times; the tones have "dropped" and men and women have scrambled into their gear, climbed aboard apparatus, and screamed off down the street to someone else's emergency. The reality is that whatever is happening down there, at the end of the "Run", really isn't their business anyways. So why do they do it ?

I have often struggled to explain to others what it means to me to be a firefighter. 

When someone asks: "What made you want to be a firefighter ?" or " What makes it worth it ?" I don't often know what to say.

The second question is especially difficult, because it references more than one issue - long hours away from home, low pay, and even things as far reaching as paying that ultimate price. I always wanted to answer, and answer well, but the words fail. It's not that I don't know, it's just that I don't know how to put in words what I feel inside, what I think, concerning this thing called firefighting. Maybe this will clear things up a little.

The other day I stumbled across the picture above, something I had read long ago, and forgotten. In a moment the disconnect between words and emotion was bridged. I read it over and over again, and want to share it with you now. It is important for one simple reason. Every man or woman who truly wishes to be a firefighter, aspires to the profession for these reasons. 

In the excerpt above, Chief Croker eloquently puts down these essential elements of understanding what firefighting is about. Allow me to unpack it.

1.) "Everything is destroyed by fire." Fire Destroys everything --it is as sure as any physical law. Provide it three things, fuel, oxygen, and heat, and it will exist, and it will continue to exist until it has consumed all of it's fuel. It is described in the new testament as being the way this world ends.(2Peter3:12) We know that nothing.... NOTHING, is "flame proof".... it's only " flame resistive" . Everything will burn once it's hot enough.

2.) " We strive to preserve from destruction the wealth of the world..."-- For the good of society, things that are valuable must be protected from destruction.The world of man collapses when The Good things of man; what he has created for the betterment and/or enjoyment of all, is destroyed. In a broader sense, If the good that man does is taken away, then what is left is only chaos and confusion.

3.) " But, above all; our proudest endeavor is to save the lives of men- the work of God himself." -
 Life is to be preserved, if possible, at all costs. Not just because it is valuable to us individually, but because it is the gift of God. Man is valuable to God, the Creator. Man is the only thing in the creation story that God took the time to fashion with his own hands... everything else he spoke into existence.

Condensed, the whole idea looks like this: I see the good in what man has created, and recognize his individual worth to God. I will gladly stand between these, and their ultimate destruction in this physical world, because if he were physically here, that is exactly what God would do.....would do? It's exactly what he did.

In the garden, the serpent hated Man. He knew the law that existed, and what God had said would happen to man if he broke that law. He knew God couldn't lie, and all he had to do to assure man's destruction was to get him to eat of the tree. And so he did.

What should have happened next was the absolute destruction of man,  the end of all humanity... the serpent laughing evilly in the background.

But what actually happened was this: The word of judgement was spoken. Fire fell from heaven to destroy the man God had created. The demon laughed... and then stopped suddenly, laughter frozen on his lips.

Across space and time a new sound was heard. For just a moment the sounds of angels singing above a tiny stable in Bethlehem sounded like the distinctive highs and lows of station tones. As all heaven grew silent,  the king of Glory vacated his throne, and stepped into the "Turn out" gear of his own mortal flesh. Without consideration for himself, he responded; and took his place between humanity and fire. 

Maybe that's overly simplistic, and a little "out there" for most people. But to me that's simply how it went down. There was no reason for God to come to man's rescue. He didn't have to, but he wanted to. His love for his creation made it "worth it". And in my mind, there is nothing more noble, nothing better served than the thing that is closest to the heart of God.
The serpent had it right; and at the same time, completely wrong. There was no way to avoid the natural consequence of Fire...  But the heart of GOD is the heart of the firefighter.


"No man is worth his salt who is not ready at all times to risk his well being, to risk his body, to risk his life, in a great cause." 
                                                                                                                -Theodore Roosevelt

He's never failed me.

"Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and today, and forever." -Hebrews 13:8

It's been a while since I've sat down at the computer and written anything here. More than "awhile", actually it's been better than 4 months. I feel like I owe an explanation to anyone who may be reading this now. It's not that I don't want to write, or like I haven't tried... there are at least three drafts on my dashboard that I've started and abandoned. It's not because they weren't good topics, or because I ran out of words, but rather because those words seemed to lose value coming from me.

I am exactly what my profile says, a simple guy - a firefighter that's been through a lot, seen a lot, failed a lot. Those things would seem to mean that I should have a lot to say, or lessons to lend, or experiences to share... but the reality is that they mean the exact opposite. If I had to learn those lessons for myself, then what gives me the right to tell anyone else anything ? The truth you may need in the exact same situation may be different than the truth I had to find... God is incredible in this one fact- When you seek him in your life, your relationship... He will be exactly what you need to fill the voids left by your failings and inadequacies. He doesn't fail.

Somewhere this became me sharing... which is good, but somehow it became me sharing me... which is bad. The truth is my view, my truths are skewed by my perspective, by my position, and by my character, which may not be the same as the person's reading this. So let me share the one thing that is the same.

There was a lady who was very influential in my early adulthood. Her name was Francis Duvall, but we just called her "Granny Doll". I can see her now sitting in the pew a few rows up, her gray and white hair twisted up in traditional Pentecostal style. When the choir would sing that old song "  He's never failed me yet, he's never failed me yet... " I would hear Granny Doll's voice singing along, ... " He's never failed me ...., He's never failed me.... " her little hands raised in worship. One day I asked her why she left off the "yet" at the end of those lines in the chorus. She looked at me, her face growing very serious. " Because Phillip, the "yet"should never have been there." I remember her taking both my hands in hers, and saying " If I say He's never failed me yet, then the yet means that somewhere down the road, he might fail me... but he won't, because he can't." she sighed. " Jesus never fails... And That's why I sing it that way."

I can't write from a perspective of knowing anything except the truth that Jesus shares, the truth that He is. And I can't relate my experiences or knowledge to anything other than this truth. He loves us, and He NEVER fails.

"That dog won't hunt."

I love being southern. Ingrained in my "make-up" are things like grits and gravy, collard greens, "yes ma'am and no-sir", and of course, country music. One of my favorite things about being southern is the use of colloquialisms in our everyday conversation. Sentences like " That dog won't hunt", which refers to any unworkable situation, such as dragging your "bird" dog out into the field, and discovering that he has suddenly had an acute attack of conscience, and now refuses to "bird". Or maybe this one: That _____, ( insert noun of choice) was fit to be tied."  This one indicates a state of perplexity approaching "shock and awe".... Where it comes from, I have no idea.

My favorite one is one my Mother's Father was fond of using. I often heard him use this one in describing certain " churches", or "Christians" whose performance was deemed not to be " Up to snuff" ( What does that one mean?!) by whomever he happened to be conversing with. Inevitably, Grandpa would hear about someone doing something " UN-christian", and he would slowly shake his head and say: " You can write hen-house over the door, but that don't mean there's any chickens inside." I always assumed this was a commentary on hypocrisy, until I stopped to remember Grand-pa's story.

Just for background purposes, He had grown up during the era of the great depression, to a family which consisted in part of 12 siblings... That's a lot I know, but one has to remember that there weren't a whole lot of entertainment options in those days.
  Lacking the most basic of necessities was common place, and doing without was just a way of life. I can't imagine what it was like back then, when hope was scarse, and hard work was made less tolerable by an empty belly. I imagined the first time a runny nosed, barefoot, little kid in the foothills of Virginia heard those words, and what caused him to commit them to memory.

Maybe the saying is less about people pretending to be something they are not, and more about a little boys' hopefulness that there's an answer for the hunger he and the rest of the nation are feeling... and that in a world full of empty " hen-houses" somewhere out there, there's one with some chickens inside.
Maybe I should view Gramps' words not as a justification for criticism, but as an admonition to make sure if I am writing "hen-house" over my door, when a hungry, little, tow-headed boy comes sniffing around he is delighted to find that there is hope, and that despite previous disappointments, that here, at last, there are chickens inside.