January 8 – “Memorial for a Galveston Fire Fighter”

The room was already bustling with activity.  Food was being tended to in the kitchen area.  Tables were set up with chairs lining them, some already in use, others waiting for oncoming occupants.  As the time for beginning neared, it became evident that even more seats would be needed.  Hosts and attenders alike pitched in to get more set up.  Chairs were added around the outside of the room.  Well-wishers good-naturedly bumped and jostled one another as they made their way to connect with one particular family member or a special friend they hadn’t seen in a long time.  Guests were attired in an array of styles, from the sharpest of suits to the crispest of uniforms to blue jeans and tennis shoes.  Smiles abounded amidst the occasional sniffs that revealed the underlying longing of separation tinged with the acknowledgment that much pain and suffering were finally over.  Some quietly made their way to the front of the room to sign in and view the photographs and artifacts that reflected the life and career of a Galveston Fire Fighter.  And most impressive of all … in the very back of the room stood a formidable row of Galveston Fire Fighters.  Some in active duty gear.  Some off duty and in civilian attire.  Some retired.  Fire Chief Wisko and Assistant Chief Olsen.  An honor guard team in full dress uniforms.  All stood at attention to honor one of their own.

Such was the scene at the Galveston Fireman’s Hall yesterday at the memorial service for retired fire fighter John Macias.  And in what I refuse to consider a coincidence (more a situation of God choosing to remain anonymous), I happen to have gone to high school with John.  That was, as his sister shared, before he dropped out in his senior year to get a GED so he could more quickly pursue his dream of becoming a fire fighter.  And to his credit, that dream became a reality when he was only seventeen years old, making him the youngest rookie in department history. 

The service was simple.  I read some scripture and shared the gospel.  We had a time of open sharing, with a good mix of family, friends, and co-workers sharing good memories and words of encouragement for the family.  We heard from his sisters and a lady who helped raise him.  We heard from two guys who appreciated John’s skills in working with electricity and in fact all things handyman-ish.  And we heard from Chief Varela who remembered their exploits together as fire fighters.  One thing became readily apparent as different ones spoke.  John was committed to his fire-fighting career and devoted to the fire-fighting family.  The service concluded with a reading of the fire fighter’s prayer and the honor guard reverently saluting his ashes for the last time. 

The time after the ceremony was spent with much laughter and eating and remembering.  I have to share one final little anecdote from the day that I will remember for a long time.  As a line formed and folks began filling their plates with tamales and fried chicken and an array of cheeses, I stood nearby chatting and listening to more “John stories.”  One older fellow slowly made his way over to me with his plate of tamales and beans.  In his heavy Spanish accent he asked me, “Do you speak Spanish?” 

I was already kind of worried that maybe some of the family might have been Spanish-only speakers and had missed out on some of the kind words that were spoken of John.  I answered, “No, sorry I really don’t.”

Undeterred, he continued on, “Well, do you want to?”

Now, I have to say that was unexpected.  I wasn’t sure how to answer.  I finally managed, “There have certainly been times when it would have been quite useful.”

Still stoic, he continued, “All you have to do is eat some of the beans with jalapenos over there.”

Wait.  What?  Did I miss something?  What do beans have to do with anything?  He obviously noticed my quizzical look.  With a gleam in his eye and a broad grin filling his face, he shook his head from side to side.  And as he slowly shuffled off he added, “That’s all Spanish is.  It’s whatever those sounds are that you make after you eat jalapenos.”

Gotta hand it to him.  Pranking the chaplain at the memorial service sounds like something John would have approved of.

John 14:1-3 says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me.  In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”

Father, thank you for the legacy of hope and commitment and love and fun that John left for his family and friends.  Walk with each of them as they deal with missing him.  Amen.