Firefighters
My husband, who will celebrate his first anniversary in retirement in December, was a firefighter for 30 years. I still remember when he received the letter that congratulated him on being accepted as a candidate to the Chicago Fire Department. He was so excited. As a firefighter, my husband has been blessed to work with some of the finest men on the Chicago Fire Department, unsung heroes, each and everyone. On the other hand, as a firefighter my husband, along with the other old-timers had to suffer the whims of politicians following their own agendas, while doing their jobs. (b.o.b.). I used to tease my husband because sometimes he would actually come in smelling like he had been at a bar-b-que. And before air masks became mandatory, if his company had a very bad fire, the black smoke he swallowed, would come out through his pores and the mucus he would cought up. My husband use to joke that being a firemen, you had to be a little crazy to begin with - here's a company of men scrambling up flights of stairs in buidlings, to get to the seat of a fire, as hordes of rats would run over their boots going down. My husband was and even now quick to tell anyone that listens that he didn't get out of all those burning buildings over the years, because he was smart. He actually had moments when he thought he was going to die and he's told me how his last prayer was for us, his family and just when he was resigned to just let go, help like the calvary came through. He knew that it was nobody but God. As a firefighter, I've seen my husband come home 24 hours later from work and just scoop our kids up in his arms and just hug them tight, not letting them go until they wiggled their way out from under his arms; thinking it was a game, they would run off to hide. Only I would see the haunted look in his eyes. Much later, he would relate how they found the bodies of kids, no older than ours at the time; in a closet or toy chest. Those sweet precious babies thought they would be safe from the fire. He saw close up and personal that death truly is no respector of person. Young and old, male or female, a single individual or whole families. He not only had to deal with burn victims, but also suicides, gunshot victims, car accidents, drug overdoses and so much more. Most times, my husband sought refuge in sleep, but then he'd dream of all the things he'd seen and in the middle of the night, he'd end up getting out of bed and watching TV until daybreak, just to refocus his mind on anything but work. I'm just sharing a very small portion of what my husband experienced as a firefighter. I came across the following poem, a while ago that truly speaks about what it takes to be a firefigher. The following poem can be found on the website of the american-firefighter.com. I'm borrowing it to post here. Lastly, this bit of truth can be applied to any profession - but in this case, I'm going to say that not everyone can be a firefighter - but for those of you who are, both men and women, God made you special.
The Creation Of The Firefighter
When the Lord was creating fire fighters, he was into his sixth day of overtime when an angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one." And the Lord said, "Have you read the specification on this person? Firefighters have to be able to go for hours fighting fires or tending to a person that the usual everyday person would never touch, while putting in the back of their minds the circumstances. They have to be able to move at a second's notice and not think twice of what they are about to do, no matter what danger. They have to be in top physical condition at all times, running on half-eaten meals, and they must have six pairs of hands." The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands...no way." "It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord, "it's the three pairs of eyes a firefighter has to have." "That's on the standard model?" asked the angel. The Lord nodded. "One pair of eyes to see through the fire and where they and their fellow fire fighters should fight the fire next. The second pair here in the side of the head to see their fellow firefighters and keep them safe. And the third pair of eyes in the front so that they can look for the victims caught in the fire who need their help." "Lord," said the angel, touching his sleeve, "rest and work on this tomorrow." "I can't," said the Lord, "I already have a model that can carry a 250-pound man down a flight of stairs to safety from a burning building, and can feed a family of five on a civil service paycheck." The angel circled the model of the fire fighter very slowly; "Can it think?" "You bet," said the Lord. "They can tell you the elements of a hundred fires and can recite procedures in their sleep that are needed to care for a person until they reach the hospital. And all the while they have to keep their wits about them. Fire fighters also have phenomenal personal control. They can deal with a scene full of pain and hurt, coaxing a child's mother into letting go of the child so that they can care for the child in need. And still they rarely get the recognition for a job well done from anybody, other than from fellow firefighters." Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the fire fighter. "There's a leak," she pronounced. "Lord, it's a tear. What's the tear for?" "It's a tear from bottled-up emotions for fallen comrades. A tear for commitment to that funny piece of cloth called the American flag. It's a tear for all the pain and suffering they have encountered. And it's a tear for their commitment to caring for and saving lives of their fellow man!" "What a wonderful feature. "Lord, you're a genius", said the angel. The Lord looked very somber at the angel and said, "I didn't put it there."
Vaness thanks for the post. I think fire fighter are really hot! God bless em'