Firehouse Jargen | Adoption & Fire

Remembering Katrina 5 Years Later

August 25, 2010 By Wendy Leave a Comment

It’s hard to believe that Hurricane Katrina was 5 years ago. The lyric in a familiar song, ‘time keeps on slipping into the future’ seems to be the motto of my life. When a friend of mine was re-mincing about our response to Katrina, it jarred me a little. How can 5 years have already disappeared?

Responding to the aftermath of Katrina was one of those life changing events for me. Even though I had witnessed the disaster of 9/11, nothing compared to the utter devastation of what this hurricane inflicted on mile upon mile, state upon state. I couldn’t wrap my brain around most of what I was seeing. Sites, smells, and even the rancid taste in the air stayed with me for weeks after my return. To this day, when I see a windowless, white van I can’t help but think of the body recovery vehicles.

I have written two other posts about my time spent in New Orleans and St. Bernard’s Parish. You can find them here and here (I’m not sure why the pictures are messed up in the post When I get some time I will fix them). What I do want to share for this 5 year anniversary post is the fact that I had some true friends that were working side by side with me. We dealt with some tough stuff…most of the stuff the average person will never see in a lifetime. These chaplains that I got to work with, I consider the best of the best. I will never forget sitting with them in broom closets talking with a burned out paramedic, or sitting on a curb in a flooded out neighborhood waiting for the body recovery vehicles to bring the dead to the ‘reefer trucks’, or standing on I-10 overpasses ‘counseling’ the rescue workers, or going through decontamination just so we could enter back into our cars to head to base camp. So many memories with some incredible people. I couldn’t imagine a better team to work with. I couldn’t imagine a better group to process the experience.

5 years later I still have some images of that time burned into my brain but most importantly I have memories burned into my heart. The experience has made me a better person. The experience has sealed upon my heart the chaplains that I know I can count on when we are faced with something really, really bad. Those relationships were forged in flood waters, on church floors, at base camps, inside of a Navy ship library, and in the back of a D-MORT facility. When it comes to the work we do as chaplains, I can’t imagine a relationship any stronger than the ones that were built in New Orleans. And for that, I feel incredibly blessed.

Filed Under: Firehouse Jargen, Headline, Notes From A Fire Chaplain, People that Make me Happy

The Challenge of Fear

March 29, 2010 By Wendy

I’m not a big fan of fear. For the most part, I am a wuss. I don’t like to chase down an adrenalin high. I’m not a fan of flying. Elevators scare the heck out of me. And balloons give me the hee-bee-gee-bees. It’s a wonder I chose the fire service as a career and that I actually made it through the academy in one piece. It’s a bit ironic how I have managed to survive this life with some of my fears because as I think about my experiences and how I have lived my life, especially in my adult years, I have managed to accomplish a great deal despite some pretty big hesitations. I think the one thing that has driven me to ‘keep on keeping on’ even in some terrifying moments is the challenge of fear. I may not like the feeling of fear but I like a good challenge and fear is a huge challenge for me to overcome.

Every big event in my life has been coupled with a healthy dose of anxiety. Leaving my family in California to start a new life in Texas just a few months into my twenties, choosing industrial firefighting as my career, choosing to start my life over again after being critically injured, starting a non-profit, becoming a chaplain, helping the families of fallen firefighters, flying to China to adopt and all of the other big and small experiences that have shaped me came with a pretty large dose of fear. Sometimes I just closed my eyes and jumped. Other times I prayed, and hyperventilated, and prayed, and meditated, and prayed, and cried, and then prayed some more. But every time I get to the other side of my fear, I realize my life is so much more enriched by the experience.

About a year ago I came up with the hair-brained idea to do a motorcycle ride to raise funds and awareness for the organization that I run here in Texas. 13 months ago it sounded like an awesome idea and I jumped right into the idea with my eyes closed. 13 months ago I had no idea the magnitude that this event would become. 13 months ago it was a dream that seemed like something that would be fun to do. The date was set. A planning committee was put together and it all seemed exciting. As the months and days moved on and the date got closer and closer, the anxiety began to set in. It became more than a motorcycle ride. It became a ride and a cook-off, neither of which I had a clue about. There was entertainment to be had, the public to feed, children to be entertained, and an auction to run. There was marketing and fundraising to be done in order to fund the event. There were meetings and speeches and letters to be written. There was asking, and pleading, and convincing, and and more asking. There were prayers, deep sighs, and more prayers and towards the end, even a few tears. The event became bigger and bigger and bigger. And while it was so exciting to watch it unfold, I was also scared out of mind. There were so many times that I wanted to just call it quits. I was so afraid of failing. I was fearful of disappointing those that participated. And even more so, I was terrified of letting down the families of the fallen firefighters who would be participating on that day. I was more inclined to embarrass myself by calling it off than to let a family down. In the end, it was the families that kept me going. I knew several of them personally because I had worked with them after their loved ones had died. It was the pictures of the fallen that have been burned into my brain over the years that helped me challenge myself to press on.

The last few months leading up to the Texas Fallen Heroes Memorial Ride & Cook-Off were filled with anxiety. They were also filled with the encouragement and support of a great team of volunteers, friends and family. We worked all day and late into the evening trying to get all of the details in order. We packed the days and minutes leading up to that weekend with lots of prayers. And while there were many glitches, and my biggest anxiety of bad weather actually came to pass, there were many, many things that went right. Despite the nasty weather, over 170 people showed up on their bikes to ride anyway. Even having no clue about the complexities of a competition barbecue cook-off, we managed to have over 25 teams compete (apparently not bad for a first timer). We had a great showing of support. We had individuals from around the fire service that took the time to fly in or drive a great distance to be a part of the team. We had scores of volunteers show up to help. There were so many moments that I was almost moved to tears. Luckily for me I was moving around like a crazy lunatic that day and didn’t have time to cry (for good or bad reasons).

The defining moment of the entire event and the moment that made all of my fear and anxiety worth it in the end came during an encounter between the families of two fallen firefighters. Both families had similar family dynamics and had lost a young son/sibling. One family was experienced with their grief because of time gone by. The other family was brand new to grief. I wanted the two families to meet because I knew that they would be a comfort to one another. During the torrential downpour, the one family enthusiastically braved the cold rain and trudged with me through the mud and the muck to the cooking area of the other family. Underneath of a big tarp tent with ankle deep mud, blowing winds, and rain whipping around I watched two families come together in comfort and support. I saw strangers become friends, unified to cope with their tragic circumstances. I stood between two fathers and listened to them talk about their sons, sometimes tearfully. That moment moved me to tears. It was because of them, and that moment, that I had challenged myself to move past my fears and keep going. In that moment, the rain didn’t matter because the rain was what washed the tears away. In that moment, it didn’t matter that we were trying to figure out how to deal with some other issues. Those issues were so small in comparison to the loss that those families had endured. Once again, I was humbled by these individuals who have had a carry a burden too heavy. Nothing mattered in that moment but them. And to see them smile and laugh chased every bit of anxiety away.

While my daily routine is starting to normalize again, my life is forever changed. With all of the heartache, and worry, and stress this event had, I would do it again in a heartbeat. I am just hoping that those incredible individuals who helped me will also be willing to do it again. I am forever changed by my fear. I am forever changed by this challenge. I am forever changed.

And thank you Bobby Halton, Editor of Fire Engineering, for writing such kind words. I am truly humbled.

Filed Under: 2010: Memory Making, Firehouse Jargen, Headline, My Life As It Happens, featured

A Lesson in Compassion

November 13, 2009 By Wendy

As first responders, emergency workers and chaplains, it is our first instinct to want to help when a tragedy or disaster occurs. Something stirs inside each of us and we can’t seem to calm ourselves until we have assisted in relief efforts. This reaction held true when Katrina devastated the Gulf Coast. With over 92,000 square miles of devastation, our hearts broke for those who were deeply impacted by the storm.

For many of us, our first instinct was to pick up and run to one of those cities and help with rescue, recovery or whatever job was available. Some did respond to New Orleans or Biloxi or other towns. Others stayed back and assisted the evacuees as they streamed into our cities looking for shelter, food and compassion.

I felt the initial restlessness of the desire to help when I saw the scenes of devastation being played out on television. Because the City of Houston became a major destination point for many of the evacuees from Louisiana, there were plenty of opportunities to put that restless energy to good use. When the call for volunteers was put out, I chose to work at the Astrodome. I spent 12 hours one afternoon working in the Psych. Unit of the hospital facility that had been set up within the Astrodome complex. Most of the patients that we saw were individuals overwhelmingly distressed by their losses. Many had become separated from loved ones. All of them had lost their homes. While I was deeply saddened and moved by their stories, I didn’t understand the depth of their grief and pain. I had not walked any amount of distance in their shoes.

Several days later, I had the incredible opportunity and honor to go to Baton Rouge and New Orleans and work with the emergency workers that were there. The experiences I had, the stories I heard and the sights I saw were seared into my heart and my mind. The heavy emotions I felt for these individuals while working at the Astrodome were almost doubled when I actually came into contact with the scenes that I saw on the television. But still, even walking among the ruins I had no real understanding of the true depth of what these people were going through.

Within just a few days of returning home from New Orleans, I learned that Hurricane Rita was heading toward Houston. I live in one of the flood/storm surge zones that would be affected if a category 4 or 5 were to hit the Galveston/Houston area. All of a sudden I was hit with the prospect that what I saw at the Astrodome and in Louisiana could happen to my family and to me. Helplessness, fear and uncertainty plagued me as I remembered those images of distressed individuals, houses being pushed into the middle of the road and cars tossed into trees. I kept thinking, “If this hits us, where are we going to live? How are we going to function without our things? Where are we going to find food to eat and water to drink?” It was very distressing to imagine my home being wiped away and losing everything. For the first time, I was actually getting a glimpse into the lives of the individuals that I had been assisting. I felt just a little bit of what they were feeling. Suddenly my compassion deepened and my understanding of their situation cleared a little more.

Thankfully, our area escaped the wrath of Rita. We were spared our home and all of our possessions. However, friends of mine didn’t quite fair as well. Cities and towns closer to Houston were affected and more of Louisiana was devastated. Some of those areas were hit twice. Now, as a fellow chaplain and I prepare to go to a small town in Louisiana to help over the Thanksgiving holiday, I thank the Lord that He allowed me to go through the experiences of Rita. I am grateful that I was allowed to feel some of the emotions that these people have felt. In 2 Corinthians 1:4, Paul writes, ‘He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When others are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.’ The comfort and the compassion that God gave to me through friends and family members, through scripture reading, and through prayer was a lesson for me on how I am to comfort and show compassion to others. Going through the experience of Rita allows me to serve with a deeper understanding and with more compassion. It allows me to relate to them a little more. The greatest blessing I received this year was the lesson in compassion that I believe the Lord has taught to me.

So I end this postwith this: remember in your suffering that you might be able to use your experiences to help or to relate with others later in life. Take your suffering and use it to help another, especially in the area of compassion and comfort.

Filed Under: 2009: Reflection & Inspiration, Firehouse Jargen, Headline, featured

Preparing

October 1, 2009 By Wendy

I have a handbook.
I have a list of items to bring.
I have a uniform.
And I have a suitcase packed and ready to go.

Tomorrow I leave for Emmitsburg, Maryland to participate as a family escort at the National Fallen Firefighters Foundation’s Memorial Weekend. I have been the presiding chaplain for two years but this will be the first time I have been assigned to specifically care for one family for the whole weekend. Tonight I am starting to get nervous.

For 10 years I have been caring for the families of fallen firefighters. I care for a family for an average of 3 years. I have been to memorials with them. I have talked with them at midnight. I have caught their tears. I have made them laugh. I have become their friends. I have never been nervous. I am not sure why I am nervous about this.

I have been to the Memorial Weekend before.
I will be briefed on my family.
I will be briefed on my duties.

Why am I nervous? I’m nervous because I am not sure which family I am assigned to yet. I want to be able to prepare for their needs. I don’t know their story yet and I feel like I’m not prepared. When my families from Texas go to the Memorial, I have known them for a year or more by then. I know their stories. I know their personalities. I know how to care for them. I can, for the most part, project their needs. Not knowing makes me worried that I won’t be able to provide the best care and service to the family that I have been asked to serve.

I’m praying.
I’m shining my shoes.
I’m polishing my badge.
I’m praying.
I’m thinking.
I’m preparing for one of the most important aspects of the work that I do.
And I’m honored.

Filed Under: Firehouse Jargen, Headline