April 26, 2011

Waiting for the Dawn ¹

by Wendy • Firehouse Jargen, Notes From A Fire Chaplain

A few weeks ago the horrible wild land fires started breaking out all over Texas.  I didn’t think too much about it because these types of fires are a common occurrence, especially up in the Panhandle.  I started to take notice when burn bans were issued for nearly all of the counties in Texas.  The fire danger was extreme.  I then sat up and watched everything quite closely when a firefighter was significantly burned fighting one of those fires.  He had 3rd degree burns over 60% of his body and that was not good.  When a firefighter is critically injured like that, unfortunately I have to start paying close attention because it means that I might have to respond should the firefighter succumb to his injuries.

Days passed, and anytime the fire situation popped into my head I said a prayer for the firefighter.  It sucks to have to live through burn recovery but I knew that his loss would be a huge blow to all that loved him.  And then the call came.  Last Friday I had taken my daughter to the county fair.  Somewhere between the cook-off tents, the carnival rides, and pens full of livestock, I got a call that a firefighter had died.  I immediately thought about that firefighter, however it wasn’t him.  Another firefighter on the other end of the state was killed fighting a wild land fire.  At the time of the call, the details were sketchy and we thought that we were looking at a multiple fatality.  All I could think about was getting Catherine inside the petting zoo so I could start working out the logistics and not have her over hear me.  That worked for about 10 minutes before she was smacked in the eye and forehead by a goat horn, but that’s another story for another day.  I just knew that we were looking at a lot of firefighters getting injured and dying in these fires.

Most of my team was in place within twelve hours and myself along with four other team members arrived on Sunday.  After a short plane flight and a long drive out to the middle of nowhere, we were ready to get to work caring for the family and the departments.  We learned that one firefighter had died, and several had been seriously burned.  We had a lot of work ahead of us, but with the full team in place I knew we could handle anything.

The reality of how severe the fires were hit when we could see smoke columns out at two of the major fires only a few miles away.  The wind would shift and the whole town smelled like a fire.  The smoke created a haze that seemed to never really disappear.  And the fire station was filled with sounds of tones going off for new fires and task force members that had been moved in to respond to them.  It was surreal to think that we were only two towns over from one of the major fires.  Close enough to smell it and taste it.

Late Tuesday evening, the night of the firefighter’s visitation, I was rushing around the funeral home making sure that all of the details were in place and that everyone was where they needed to be when I got the phone call that the burned firefighter that I had been keeping my eye on was not expected to make it through the night.  I never in a million years would I have imagined that I would be sitting in one funeral home handling the details of one death and also planning for the eventual death of another.  It’s incredibly hard to wait for someone to die.  It’s even harder to have to start to plan their funeral when they aren’t even gone yet.

Later that evening, after all of the family members had gone home, and most of the firefighters were back at the station, we were all milling about, working on last minute details for the funeral when a fire call came in.  One town over a grass fire had started and they needed firefighters.  An hour later it had grown in size and they were calling for help.  The station had cleared out and all that remained were just our team members and a couple of firefighters.  By the time we left for our hotel, this fire had grown to critical mass.  We had no idea if this would be the next big wild land fire, only 5 miles away.

Four of us huddled at a table in the hotel lobby talking about everything that was unfolding before us.  We were overwhelmed with everything that was going on and all I could think about was I couldn’t wait for dawn.  It was midnight and we were waiting to see if this fire was going to cause an evacuation of the town, we were waiting to see if any of those firefighters were even going to be able to break away from the fire to be at the funeral, we were waiting…waiting for the second firefighter to die.  There is something about the dark of night that just adds a whole other dynamic to difficult situations.  I stayed up for most of the night thinking and worrying and wondering what the dawn would bring us.  The light of the morning would hopefully bring us better news.  I was waiting for dawn.  Waiting for so much, but I was waiting for dawn.

Four o’clock in the morning the second firefighter died.  It broke my heart that another family’s heart was breaking.  By the time the sun started rising, I was assured that while nobody wanted this firefighter to die, he was no longer suffering.  The dawn brought death to a firefighter who was suffering unimaginably.  And while death is tragic, it can also be a relief.  The dawn had brought relief for one and heart ache for another.  The dawn had also brought us the news that the fires one town over were under control.  Every single one of the firefighters would be able to celebrate their brother’s life.  The dawn brought peace and comfort and relief.  And in the middle of all the madness of these tragic circumstances, we took what the dawn had given us and started moving on into the new day.  Two families now needed to be cared for.

Sometimes what we are waiting for is extremely painful.  Waiting through the dark of night just makes our waiting more anxious.  Even if we know that we aren’t always going to be getting good news when the sun rises, at least we know we can face those battles with the clarity of having the sun up in the sky instead of the moon.  It seems like if we can get to dawn, we can survive and handle anything that is thrown our way.