July 19 – “Snook”

Yesterday was truly a Cailyn kind of day.  Of course since she was here, it had little chance of being anything else.  We played a game of catch.  Well, not with a baseball.  Or even a softball.  No, not with Cailyn.  We played with a rolled-up blanket.  Odd?  Yes.  But actually quite challenging as well.  The thing kept coming unrolled in midair.  And when it didn’t, it almost knocked her down.  But mix that challenge with the hilarity of her laughter and you have the makings of a fun game.

We watched some goofy videos on my FaceBook feed.  At least there you know there is some semblance of control over content.  She has learned how to get to You Tube, so we have to watch what she ends up with.  Even with the iphone she asks Siri for some princess videos and ends up with some pretty strange stuff, much of which should be at least R-rated. 

I guess the highlight of the day was our trip to WalMart.  For me, of course, it was all about watching people.  I guess it was the bad weather, but there were just not that many people there.  All the tourists must have been holed up in their hotel rooms.  We did accomplish the other thing we came for.  We bought some jars and pectin so Chris and Cailyn could make some jelly.  Betty brought over two huge bags full of figs the other day, and we had some strawberries, so now we are stocked with strawberry-fig jelly.  I know we’ll probably end up giving a lot of it away, but it is really good stuff.  I’ll get my share of jelly biscuits and jelly toast. 

I do have to share one Cailyn anecdote.  She actually told me what to write in my blog that morning, so I suppose her creative juices were still flowing.  Out of the blue she came up to my desk and began:

“One time while you were asleep me and Mommy and Daddy came to your house and we had a key and we snook into your bedroom and moved stuff all around but it was OK ‘cause we put it back together before you woke up in the morning and you and Nani didn’t even know we were there.”
Whew.  All one long sentence, I know.  But that’s how she said it.  I was out of breath listening to her.  Now I’m not sure when that little escapade may have occurred, and Nathan and his family are certainly welcome in our house at any time, but I was – and still am – stuck on that one little turn of the phrase she used.  You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?  “We snook in …”  I have always had trouble with the past tense of “sneak” myself.  What is it supposed to be, anyway?  Sneaked?  Snuck? Snucked?  Sneak-ted?  Hey, as far as I’m concerned, “snook” is as good as any of the other options.  Let’s start a “snook-y” campaign to get it past the editorial powers that be at Webster’s and snook it into the next edition of their dictionary. 

1 Thessalonians 5:1-2 says “Now, brothers, about times and dates we do not need to write to you, for you know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.”

Father, I supposed you know more about “snook-ing” than anybody.  Help us to be ready for coming.  Amen.

July 18 – “A guest blogster”

Today Cailyn is here so she is going to write the blog entry.  She first wanted me to copy down all the words on an advertisement for checks.  But there were too many words.  So we started looking at the available pictures you could have printed on your checks.  She picked one as her favorite that had stripes like a zebra.  She even added the word “Nani” to it.  The panda bear one was kind of funny.  The eagle in front of a flag and the whole row of cowboy boots got her attention.  And I have to mention the one that said Coca-cola.  She recognized that logo right away.  Apparently Nani picked the one with sunflowers yesterday.  Cailyn first put my name on one with a strange looking cat, but I balked about that one.  Once we turned the ad over she noticed the ones that honor rescue animals.  She was especially drawn to one with one of those fluffy-looking dogs.  Finally she found one for me that she knew for sure I would like.  It had the logo of major league baseball on it.  That girl knows her DadDad loves baseball. 

Well, when you’re just five years old your blog doesn’t take all that long to write.  She just ran off into the bedroom to see if she could get Nani out of bed.  That means I need to get started on some breakfast.  Hey, Cailyn, how do frozen waffles sound?

Luke 18:15-17 says, “People were also bringing babies to Jesus to have him touch them. When the disciples saw this, they rebuked them. But Jesus called the children to him and said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.’”

Father, you have always loved your creation and related to us as your dearly loved children.  Help us to follow your example with the children in our lives.  Amen.

July 17 – “Plan B”

I started off my blog this morning with my thoughts concerning a really tough fire call some of our guys had to deal with involving a child.  I actually got the entry written and everything, but I was just not sure about posting it.  It did allow me to crystalize my own feelings about the situation and the role I have as chaplain in it.  I’ll have to do some more thinking and praying about that one. 

So instead, what can I talk about?  Guess I could go with the straight reporting of activities.  I have done that before.  We did go to Shrimp N Stuff for lunch yesterday with Cailyn and Nathan.  That’s always a plus.  And Chris is back working on quilts again, so she is definitely engaged during the day.  I have been losing myself in work at the computer, trying to stay ahead of things as far as church is concerned.  The retreat center there at church is really hopping, especially this week.  A group from central Texas is leading a training workshop for disaster relief workers.  They are always a great group to have.  Even got a call from them yesterday.  One of the workers ran across our box of Seaside imprinted coffee mugs and wanted to know if she could buy a few.  She was having an incredible experience here, and a friend of hers had been here a few years ago with the same positive experience, so she wanted something to commemorate it.  I told her to just take the four she wanted with our complements.  I think she is planning to put an extra offering in the plate before they leave, though. 

Our next big project around the house looks like it might be building a workbench for the garage.  I found a how-to guide on Home Depot’s website, and it doesn’t look all that difficult.  Of course Nathan reminded me that he has all the power tools over at his house from back when he had to do some emergency repairs on his stairs that collapsed.  He assured me he would get them back when I needed them, though.  In fact he offered to go with me to Home Depot to get the supplies.  Something about a new hammer drill or something like that.  Sounded like a veritable Tim the Tool Man.  That would be a fun trip, I’m sure.  And a fun project.  Of course once it’s done I’ll have to clean out and straighten up the garage again.  Work always produces more work, doesn’t it? 

Well, I guess I rambled on about our boring life for long enough.  Time to move on to something a bit more productive.  Oh, tonight is our home Bible study.  Guess I should get prepared for that …

Genesis 2:15 says, “The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it.”

Father, I guess you have been providing us with a job to do literally from the beginning of time.  Help me to do it with a smile and a fresh burst of energy every day.  Amen.

July 16 – “Released to return to duty”

Yesterday afternoon, the ap on my phone that sends out notifications of calls sounded its alarm for a fire not too far from here.  It looked like several of the engines were responding, and I heard the sirens as engine four roared by on its way, so I quickly changed clothes and headed out.  I switched on the scanner ap so I could hear updates as the different units arrived.  It is on a thirty second delay, so it’s not quite as good as having the actual radio.  It is informative, though.  I heard when engine one arrived.  I heard the battalion chief announce his presence on scene.  I got to within about ten blocks of the fire when the call came that the fire was already out.  One engine would stay on the scene to do some inspection and all others were released to return to duty. 

Now that’s a good thing.  That’s what is supposed to happen.  No one is injured.  Minimal property damage.  I have to admit, though, that there was a certain rush of adrenaline within me that deep down was hoping for another chance to see these guys in action, to learn some more about on-scene “unforeseens.”  I can only imagine how the fire fighters must feel every time something similar happens.  They get the call from dispatch.  They race to get bunker gear on.  They leap into the trucks and hit the sirens.  They make the radio call that sounds so calm and professional over the air, “Engine one responding.”  All the while that aforementioned adrenaline is pumping through their system, jarring them awake on night calls or intensifying their senses at other times.  Every muscle in their bodies is poised for the impending action.  And then, before they even reach the scene, they are released. 

Now, I know how difficult it is for me to calm back down when, say, we hear a strange noise outside and Chris wants me to go investigate.  (Not that she ever asks me outright to go check it out.  But she makes it clear that she isn’t going anywhere).  Or for sure when our phone rings late at night.  I know it can’t possibly be good news, so my mind races almost as fast as my heart is beating.  Who could it be?  What has happened to one of the grandkids?  Is it someone from Seaside?  Has there been a bad fire?  And then it’s a wrong number.  I for one can’t just set it aside and fall back to sleep immediately.  I end up having to go through my bedtime routine all over again, or at least work a few more crossword puzzles to settle my mind down.  But for these guys, always in the back of their mind is the thought, “Another call could come at any time.”  How is that conducive to a good night’s sleep in any universe?  Yet it is what they live with every third day, for twenty-four hours.  Unless of course they are called for overtime, in which case that twenty-four hours becomes forty-eight.  It is not an easy profession, this fire-fighting thing.  Stress like that puts a major strain on relationships.  Other fire fighters understand, but do wives?  Children? 

I guess my “word of wisdom” is this: When you are dealing with a fire fighter in any capacity, please be understanding, be patient, be appreciative.  This might be the guy who rescues you from a wrecked car or carries your child from a burning building, or scruffs up the hair of that same child on a visit to the school for “Community Heroes Day.”  But he is not Superman.  He hurts.  He feels.  He cares.

2 Corinthians 5:20 says, “We are therefore Christ's ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ's behalf: Be reconciled to God.”

Father, getting right with you is the only “right” way to approach life.  Only when that’s taken care of can we really appreciate the sacrifices others make every day.  Touch the guys in the fire service at the point of their deepest need.  You know it better than anyone.  Amen.

July 15 – “Immigrants”

We have had a few days of rain over the last few weeks.  That’s always a good thing unless of course you are a youngster on a summer baseball team.  Then you want it to be sunny all the time so you won’t have to miss practice or – horror of horrors – an actual game.  Nooooo. 

Whew.  Now that was a blast from the past.  My past, I confess.  I hated rainy summer days with a passion.  I always wondered why my parents just smiled knowingly and nodded at my enthusiasm for drought, never agreeing with me, but always being careful not to dampen my passion.  They knew then what I have come to know now.  If there is not much rain, then you have to water the yard more and more often.  And watering the yard costs more and more money.  But when the rains come, growth occurs.  And growth is what has been happening. 

One of the things I have been carefully preserving in the vacant lot next door (AKA 40 Steps) has been a Brazilian pepper tree.  Ever since Hurricane Ike I have nurtured the silly thing so we could get some shade in our back yard.  Between that tree, a small bush under it, two other trees nearby, and the grass over there, I have almost doubled my workload on yard work days.  It has been worth it, though.  The Brazilian pepper in particular has really taken off.  The shade we wanted is there now, but with it came another problem.  The tree grows right around two of the three cables running from the electrical pole to our house.  The two on bottom bring us telephone and cable TV.  The one on top delivers electricity.  As a result of this rapid tree growth, our telephone and cable lines are completely surrounded.  If another storm should come, they are doomed.  It hasn’t reached the electrical cable yet, but it won’t be long.  It is definitely time for a trim.

So I headed out there yesterday, snips in hand, to release the cables from the impending Brazilian invasion.  The first few branches were easy to access.  I actually began to think that this wouldn’t be nearly as difficult as I expected.  But as I moved around to the other side to get a better view, I heard a loud racket behind me.  No, off to the side.  Then it was on the other side.  What was that?  Finally I glanced above me and saw the noisemaker.  A mockingbird was obviously quite agitated, and she was letting me know all about it. 

Well, that brought to mind something Chris told me about a week or so ago.  She said she had seen several mockingbirds dive bombing our dachshund Heidi.  Of course Heidi was oblivious to their attacks.  One of the blessings of getting old.  But just two days ago I found the reason for those attacks.  Among the lilies growing in the flower bed under the Brazilian pepper was a dead bird.  So … I knew that somewhere up in that tree was a nest.  I went back to the trunk and looked up through the tangled mess of branches.  Sure enough, there was the nest.  Several of them, in fact.  The tree had become an entire neighborhood.  Ah, now I understood why I couldn’t understand the cackling.  It was no doubt in Portuguese.  That settled my plans for rescuing the wires.  Not today.  I walked back out into the open and headed for the shed to put away the tool.  But She was not convinced.  Still cackling wildly she made the short trip over to our deck.  She was on the offensive now, and the evil interloper (that would be me) was on the run.  She began her attack.  First one warning swoop, and back to her perch to taunt me further.  And then she began what was surely a kamikaze flight to impale herself in my head.  Thankfully for both of us I saw her coming, and was able to dodge away at the last moment.  Back up to the high wires this time, babbling incoherently, demanding that I depart from her territory and never return.  I humbly apologized for the inconvenience I had already caused and assured her that I wanted no part of disturbing her children.  I also bravely threw back a threat of my own, waving the clippers into the sky.  “No more dive bombing.”  Reluctantly, she agreed to the terms and returned to her cozy Brazilian neighborhood.  Guess I’ll just have to pray that we don’t have a bad storm this summer.

Psalms 28:8-9 says, “The Lord is the strength of his people, a fortress of salvation for his anointed one. Save your people and bless your inheritance; be their shepherd and carry them forever.”

Father, watch over those little birds remaining in the nest out back.  Your word says you know and care even for them.  Thank for knowing and caring for my family as well.  Help me to be as watchful over my family as that mockingbird was over hers.  Amen. 

July 14 – “The Unveiling”

So Cailyn spent a few nights with us this past weekend.  What can I say?  We are just the awesomest grandparents ever, and she can’t get enough of us, right?  Well, that and her Mom was on an out of town trip and her Daddy was on shift at the fire station. 

She arrived for her two-night stay with a heavy suitcase, a “Julie” doll (that’s some kind of special thing.  American Girl doll sound familiar?), a stuffed cow named Moo-Moo, a plastic horse almost as tall as she is (I still haven’t figured out that one’s name.  I’m pretty sure it’s a girl, though), a separate satchel with clothes for Julie, and a large, square box-like purse that I found out later was her make-up kit.  How old is this child, anyway?  There may have been more, but it took her and her Daddy to get it all in from the truck.  She hauled everything into the den and began the unloading process.  Oh, I guess she did manage a quick “See ya Daddy” moment in there before he left.  She was focused.

And by focused I mean, it was time to unload that suitcase.  And was I ever unprepared for what was inside.  Oh, there was the usual clothing, although I thought she may have gone just a little overboard.  There were shorts and t-shirts and underwear – enough for at least a week.  And she carefully lined each collection in a neat row in front of the TV.  But then she uncovered her two “outfits.”  I guess that must be female code for “dress.”  There were two of them.  She assured us one was for her to wear to church.  The other was for “if we have to go out anywhere.”  She was momentarily distracted from the fashion show when she came across a box of some kind.  It seemed to really excite her to show it to us.  And rightly so.  It was her very own jewelry box.  She already has quite the collection, especially of earrings.  I was fascinated by the box, myself.  No matter which way you turned it, there were drawers.  One had an old watch.  Another had a dollar bill.  She refused my immediate request for a loan though.  And when you opened the very top of the box, a ballerina popped up.  Sadly, the jewelry box adventure came to a rapid conclusion when she remembered the most important items yet to come. 

Her entire countenance seemed to change in an instant when she got to this final portion of her unpacking.  Her eyes lit up.  A kick of adrenaline surged through her veins.  A few final, obviously extraneous pieces of clothing were flung aside, and she abruptly sat back on her heels for a long moment.  She breathed a sigh of adoration as she took in the extraordinary sight that met her eyes.  By this time she certainly had my attention.  I couldn’t see whatever it was from my vantage point, but I was just praying that it wasn’t alive.  Slowly she reached in, as if the object of her admiration was more precious than the finest gold.  Even more slowly she raised them from their honored perch and held them up for all to see, to join her in her reverie.  And the object?  A pair of shoes.  Yep.  Sorry to break the mood, but I am a guy and, well, shoes?  Really?  Oh, but she wasn’t done yet.  As I shook my head and rubbed my eyes (yes, see, I had been afraid that I would miss something, so I had been on the edge of my seat, riveted by the mystery about to unfold.  That means I had been afraid to even blink.  And then for the “surprise” to be of such proportion, I was just … dumbfounded), she carefully placed those shoes to the side and reached in … for another pair.   And then … another.  And … another.  Before she was finished she had five different pair of shoes lined up next to her clothes, gazing adoringly at the array.  Shoes.  Aunt Christi, I do believe you have a kindred spirit down here.

Psalms 40:2 says, “He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.”

Father, thank you for your stability.  It’s great to know I can always trust you.  Amen.

July 13 – “The Rookie”

There is nothing like watching a rookie at his first fire.  There is a fascinating combination of bravado and sheer awe, with just a tiny taste of healthy fear thrown in for safety’s sake.  As he straps his helmet on, his eyes dart from truck to captain to fellow fire fighters, finally stopping for a long second on the plumes of smoke and, yes, there it is, the first evidences of flames trickling, then exploding from the structure.  Racing through his mind are the rules of encounter, the checklist of safety precautions, the equipment checks … all the little things that he was trained to do in the academy that have suddenly become more than a question on a quiz.  And then the order from command comes.  The team makes its move.  To the hoses.  To the hydrant.  To the structure itself.  The first step.  The adrenaline kicks in.  And he is a first fire rookie no more. 

I know that makes it sound like I’m some sort of grizzled veteran myself, and I certainly do not consider myself that.  I have too much respect for the guys that actually have run onto burning buildings for years to make any such claim.  I do consider myself a student of human nature, though.  And as such I really enjoyed watching all of those elements come into play at a relatively small apartment fire yesterday.  Of course no fire is small, especially when it is raging and consuming property and putting people’s lives at risk.  There is no group of guys I would rather have racing to my rescue, however, than the crews of Galveston Fire and Rescue. 

I arrived after the area was locked down by Galveston PD.  One of the officers recognized me from other fires, however, and let me through the line with no questions asked.  I understand it was an off-duty police officer who called in the fire to the dispatcher.  Once again, I was impressed at the calm demeanor of the incident commander as he called out orders placing the arriving trucks and teams and coordinating with the police department through the dispatcher.  His cool approach to handling the fire carried through even to his follow-up and release orders .  Thorough and professional.  Nice job, Richie.

Oh, and back to the rookie.  Our new guy did really well.  One of the guys from his station pointed him out to me and asked me to try and get a picture of him.  He was wielding an ax while standing on a ladder.  Actually he had one leg hooked around a rung to give him stability.  He was hacking through the outer eaves to search for hot spots.  Pretty impressive stuff, Justin.  Of course as I moved around to get the picture a spray of water exploded from the upstairs widow and cascaded down on me.  I’m not sure how you set that one up, Kevin.  You’ll be hard pressed to convince me it was a coincidence.  I did get a few pictures and sent them on to Justin.  Start your scrapbook, my friend. 

Once everything was pretty much under control, the apartment manager approached me and asked if it was safe for her to get to the other side of the facility.  She was fuming mad and had apparently been doing her own investigation as to the cause of the blaze.  It was quite the rant, and all pure speculation, but she seemed convinced that some kids may have started the fire.  Something about them smoking “something,” and another kid was going to tell on them, so they beat him up, started the fire to cover their tracks, and ran off.  Phew.  I think I’ll leave that up to the fire marshall and police department to sort out.

I stuck around long enough to watch some of the post-fire work.  It is really eye-opening to see just how much work there is still left to do after the fire is out.  Unhooking the hoses from the hydrants.  Stowing all the gear back onto the trucks.  Using the roller to flatten out the hoses.  That’s the first time I have seen that particular piece of equipment in action.  Slowly backing up the truck to load the hose back onto it.  All in all, just some great teamwork even at putting away the tools of the trade.

The brand-new Engine One came within mere inches of its first scratch after they were released from the scene.  They were trying to pass between another still-active truck and a building when it became evident that it just wasn’t going to fit.  They stopped in plenty of time, though.  Wise choices, Guys, and masterful driving, Nathan.

Proverbs 30:15-16 says, “There are three things that are never satisfied, four that never say, 'Enough!’: the grave,  the barren womb, land, which is never satisfied with water, and fire, which never says, 'Enough!'”

Father, once again I pray for the guys in the fire service.  Hover about them you’re your protection wherever they go, on duty and off.  Grant young Justin health and safety as he continues forward in his career.  Amen.