Night before Christmas Eve, promptings of the inner spirit, timely call put into firefighting husband, blaring tones and deep voices fill background of answered phone. Beloved familiar voice stating, "Gotta go. Caught a fire." With "I love you's" exchanged the call ends as quickly as it began. With most of these calls ending in false alarms I think nothing of it. This falls entirely short of being the most combustible city in the US so no more thought was given to it. Life and routine carried on as dinner was prepared, children bathed and eventually put to bed. Realization occurred that it had been hours upon hours since phone call had ended. I fought off concern for the next while and eventually caved in my longing to check on him. Another call was made. Cold darkness had long since settled over our world and gentle freezing rain began to grace the earth with ice. Sounds of massive diesel trucks running....pumping, many male voices beyond, commotion, noise filled phone as husband spoke loudly to be overheard above the activity. "Big fire, cold rain, be awhile" was all I managed to catch. Children still excitedly awake in bed I made my way back to them. With gentle smiles and soft voices 8 smaller sets of hands and 8 bowed heads each prayed for the safety of their daddy and all of the beloved fire crew. The children are dearly loved by all of the guys that work with Brad and in turn our merry little crew is endeared to each of the guys. With childlike faith each prayed and each knew beyond all of life that they were indeed heard by our God, the God who protects and makes everything work together for good. With sweet prayers finished excited chatter filled the room as they talked of fire trucks, fire and what they imagined to be happening.
Heaviness settled upon me as I thought of raging infernos, loss of life, bitter cold, icy rain and all fire husband was enduring while I stood cleaning warm home with candles burning, cats purring and coffee steaming. Mother arrived, sweet friendship, momentary diversion created. More long hours passed before phone finally rang. Babysitting fire, investigating, 2 dead, probably be out there all night, best for me to head onto bed, he'd be home late in the morning. Eventually house fell silent for the night. Buried beneath warm blankets, thick socks covering icy cold feet, hair unleashed onto pillow I prayed my way to sleep. Obsessive thoughts filled my head of husband standing in cold rain, wee early morning hours, feet numb, soaked to skin, weighted, rain soaked bunkergear. So I prayed for continued protection, patience, strength and endurance for him, and every other thing the wife of any firefighter knows.
Admittedly, these days do not come often but when they do my heart still seems to stop beating until he is home again. The ability to breathe seems to evade me at times when I know he is out there and the job is intense. The wrecks he works, the cars that fail to slow, the people that drive and pay these guys no heed as they work next to moving traffic, fueled cars burning on sides of highways, structure fires so intense that firefighters are pulled back as roofs collapse, lives are lost. It happens and he does it all. I know that I am not ever guaranteed another day with him. So I embrace life for what it is today....the present, the moment we live within. And I am thankful for every morning that he returns home to me, pulls me to him and tells me he loves me still.
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