April 23 – “The Realm of Rescue”

There is nothing quite so eerie as an empty fire station.  The “usual” involves the hustle and bustle of training or studying for an upcoming officer’s exam or working out or, in the quieter moments, watching television or cooking the next meal or sitting outside communing with nature or the latest civilian passerby or taking a quick opportunity for a phone call from home to touch base with the wife or tell a child she is loved.  Or perhaps on a really good day, the family stops by to have lunch or toss a football around with Dad.

And then comes the blast of the speaker and the tone that means a call.  Everything else is put on hold as the fire fighters instantly enter an entirely different world, the realm of rescue, the fully focused persona of first responder.  Anything less is dangerous for himself and potentially for someone else.  Four minutes or less to be on the road in response. Cooking?  Make sure the stove is off and perhaps the food is covered.  Reading?  A quick bookmark to hold your place.  Watching a movie?  Hit pause.  On the telephone?  A quick “I love you” and that loved one … understands.  Down the pole or the steps or even the slide.  Step into the bunker gear so carefully placed near the door of the fire engine.  Slide into his designated spot and wait, or drive on to the fire or the wreck or the medical emergency or perhaps even the kitty cat rescue from a tall tree.

But what remains when the engine and the ladder truck and even the battalion chief vehicle all pull away from the station?  Doors closed to encase a vast, empty bay, the faint smell of gas and oil still lingering in the air.  A half-eaten meal on the table.  A now-flat, half-empty can of soda near a chair.  A computer flickering into screen saver mode.  The only sound is the drone of a TV left playing or the occasional blaring of yet another call or perhaps the intermittent buzzing of a cell phone left behind. 

Eerie?  Yes, absolutely.  Signs of life suddenly disrupted, as if ripped from existence by some unseen force.  And, you know, now that I think about it, that is exactly what did happen.  Virtually every time they come on duty, these fire fighters are ripped away from any semblance of normalcy, not just once, but time and time again.  And not just in a nine-to-five work day, either.  The call comes at all hours of the day and night.  What awaits them on the other end of that call is a great unknown, but the response is always the same.  Adrenaline kicks in and training becomes reality, as they enter … no, not the Twilight Zone … it’s the Realm of Rescue.

Matthew 10:12-13 says, “As you enter the home, give it your greeting.  If the home is deserving, let your peace rest on it; if it is not, let your peace return to you.”

Father, watch over these committed men and women as they watch over our city.  And would you also watch over their home-away-from-home in those hours that they are gone as well?  Amen.