Burn

It has taken me a long time to put this post to print.  It's one that has been on my mind for awhile, but my thoughts weren't organized enough to even start a draft.  And then once I started a draft, I kept going back to it, but never finishing it.  But as John just celebrated his 3-year anniversary with the Department recently, I thought it's a good time to go for it.  

Several months ago John and I had a night out without the kids and went to a showing of the documentary, Burn.  It was done in Detriot, Michigan surrounding the fire department there.  The premise was to follow the lives of several different past and present firefighters, show the change in Detriot as a city over the years and what it has meant for them, and just the profession in general. 

It made me sick to my stomach.  It scared me to see real people in situations that I try to pretend John isn't in.  I am aware of the challenges facing John at work, and the risks he takes, but I almost try and deny them.. "oh that doesn't happen around here." "he'll be fine"  "he's probably responding to smoke from burnt popcorn"... etc.  

But that isn't true all of the time.  It is a very scary thought that any given day, when John kisses me in the morning, says "bye" and heads out the door, that that day could be a day that our lives change forever.  Sure, this is the case for anyone.  All kinds of accidents can happen, all kinds of diagnoses can be given, all things that would change lives instantly...but most people aren't running into these types of situations willingly and on a regular basis.  To be completely honest, on the days John is at work, every time my phone rings or I hear a knock on our door my heart skips a beat.  "Please, God, don't let this be the call or the visit."  Or the night before John has to work and he gets extra hugs and kisses from the kids because he won't see them tomorrow, I sometimes can't help but think, "Please let it just be tomorrow."  All of these intense or dramatic thoughts last just for a quick second, and then I am back to reality.  It's a harsh reality, but I have to I remind myself that it's not likely and I can't worry about the unknown or things I can't do anything about.  But I pray extra hard on the nights he's at work that God keeps him safe.   

My qualms of a rough day at work include too many papercuts, not getting figures to reconcile, people not providing enough documentation, missing reporting deadlines... John's include carrying a teenager out of a burning house, knowing he won't make it, responding to an unconscious 3 month old baby, a fatal accident where he has to remove bodies from vehicles, I could go on and on…It's not just the dangerous situations he faces regulary, but so many other different situations that would psychologically haunt most of us for the rest of our lives.  And he's only three years in.  Sure, this isn't every day.  But it does happen more often than I would have expected and way more often than I prefer.  (And the jokes of them lounging on leather recliners… well, those times are real, too!).  Some nights he will get very little sleep, then to come home and be with his kids that require lots of energy and work.  Or head out for another day of work doing something else.    

Here's a picture John sent me one evening from a fire they had had.

I don't know who was taking it or how they got it, but pretty unreal, huh?

I recently read an article that said, Firefighters have and will miss "...family meals, bedtime stories, Christmas mornings, school plays, anniversaries, Thanksgiving dinners, and their own chilren's birthdays.  We all know that life is so short, and firefighters sacrifice precious time with the most important people in their lives to save the lives of the most important people in yours."  But not only will he miss these things, but we will miss him.  It's not the same not having Dad around every evening, weekend, special event, and holiday. 

It's no wonder his crew and department have such a camaraderie.  A third of the time they live together and they are with each other during some pretty intense situations.  The firehouse is their home away from home and the crew is their family when they can't be with their own.  The group he works with and his other coworkers are such great people and have been so nice to our family over the years.  They even brought the firetruck to the hospital to come meet Avery when she was born and take Rudy for a ride!  

But he loves it.  He loves being there to help.  He loves the adrenaline rush.  He loves the day-to-day, the lifestyle.  He loves the people.  He loves how much he's learned and what he's learning.  He also loves that some days he can watch a show/movie/football game in peace and quiet  :)  And I am very happy for him that he can go to work doing something he loves (but I'll be equally as happy when he can retire!).  

We are so proud of him for what he does and the people he helps, and so thankful for the profession in general and those who choose to have it.  Because as much as we hope not, we all may need them responding to our emergency some day.  He's our hero and a dad Rudy and Avery are lucky to look up to.