The eventful part happened in the morning
when I heard a structure fire call.
Actually I heard the sirens outside first and realized I hadn’t turned
on my fire call application yet. It took
a few minutes and a quick text to the chief to verify the location, but it
sounded like a pretty big fire, so I changed into my fire department clothes
and headed over. There was a secondary
reason for my concern. A mention on the
radio of the possible presence of racing fuel reminded me that one of the young
men who used to attend Seaside Christian Academy lived in that area. And his Dad was a professional race car
driver. It definitely upped my sense of
urgency in this case.
By the time I arrived the fire fighters had
knocked down most of the flames, but there was still plenty of smoke so the
incident was most assuredly not over.
Virtually every fire fighting apparatus on the Island was in play
somehow. The volunteers in Jamaica Beach
were called into service to help cover the West End, and I understand they had
several calls to respond to during the fire, and I know they handled them with
efficiency and professionalism. Always
proud of those Jamaica Beach guys. All
but three or four of the Galveston on duty guys were involved in the fire
itself, rotating in and out of the structure with hoses, operating the pumps on
the trucks, and pulling out portions of the wall and ceiling to uncover
hotspots. Several of the rookies were
involved, fighting their first big fire and “getting baptized” so to speak into
the “real world of fire fighting” that they signed up for. They all performed admirably, though. Perhaps the best praise I could offer would
be that it was hard to tell the rookies from the old pros when they all had
bunker gear on. They were all acting as
one unit to get the job done. That’s why
you never hear of one guy getting elected MVP of the fire. Oh, there’s always some good-natured teasing
when someone gets his picture in the paper, but it’s never about one guy with the
fire department. Like the musketeers, I
guess. “All for one and one for all.”
The captain in charge (or is a battalion
chief now? I still haven’t learned all
the new promotions. Sorry, Mike) did a great job directing the teams and calling in ladders
and ordering a vent hole cut in the roof.
And as I said, the guys carrying out those orders were skilled at what
they do and efficient in execution. My
favorite order of the day, though came when one of the guys was taking a
breather and getting some water. He had
removed his bunker jacket to cool down, and one of the chiefs told him, “Make sure
you get that shirt tucked in.” The weary
firefighter looked up questioningly and slowly reached for his shirt,
instinctively obeying the order, until his eyes met the grin on the face of the
chief. A brief moment of connection that
said, “I know what you are going through.
I’ve been there. I’m proud of
you.” Gotta love that encouragement
style.
I did have a chance to talk to the young
man who lived in the house. He was not
at home when the fire began, and no one else was in the house, either, so that
was a blessing. He was still in a little
bit of shock, but his grandfather was there with him, and his neighbors were
offering support and assistance in any way they could. One of the neighbors even brought over some
water for the fire fighters. Thank you
again, whoever you were. I had a chance
to pray with the young man as he waited to meet with an insurance agent. He has a long road ahead of him.
Another of my favorite moments came after
the fire was out. I talked for a while
with two of the fire fighters. Josh made
it a point to mention what a lucky man he was to have snagged the wife he
did. Always the perfect husband-ly thing
to say, and she wasn’t even around to hear it.
And Jeremy could talk of nothing but the impending birth of what he now
knew was a son. I asked if they had a
name picked out yet. He answered, but I didn’t
hear him right, so he was quick to correct me.
“No, his name is Easton. Like the
baseball bat.” I understood immediately
when he said that. Can’t wait to meet
him, Jeremy. Another of the guys was
injured after I left. I saw his wife’s
post on FaceBook of him in a sling. Take
care of yourself, Jared.
I did mention an unfruitful portion of the day. That took place in the afternoon. And on and on and on into the night. I’m still trying to get my computer to
recognize my iPhone again. Spent a few
hours with Apple, another thirty minutes or so with Microsoft, and up until
11:30 with HP. It sounds like the whole
problem is HP’s issue, but he hadn’t yet solved it when I finally told him I had
to go to sleep. We are supposed to pick
back up sometime today. We’ll see how
that goes. I think I need a few hours of
worship and a few hours of sleep. Unfortunately
I can’t combine the two like some people can when they go to church. I can’t sleep through the sermon. I have to be the guy that puts them to sleep.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-3 says, “There is a time for everything, and a
season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a
time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time
to tear down and a time to build”
Father, Jeff faces that time of tearing
down and rebuilding with his house now.
Give him wisdom beyond his years to deal with the hassles that are sure
to arise. Thank you for the support of
his neighbors and the calming presence of his grandfather. And thank you once again for watching over
the fire fighters as they did their job.
And, please heal Jared quickly so he can return to the trenches. Amen.
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