Adoption & Fire

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.