by J.F. Pringle
No seat was better than atop dad’s shoulders. He saw the floats, the bands, the steeds, the soldiers.
None of that mattered, why dare even mention? His heart began to race when he saw that red engine.
The company drew closer, men laden in blue. One look at proud faces and the boy knew,
“Daddy I want to be a firefighter, is that ok?” “Yes son, it is. But great dragons you must slay!”
Many years had passed by, the child now a teen. Fire-engine-dreams forgotten, gone what had been.
Life is not complicated; your youth is for fun. Then one evening, the boy went for a run.
He rounded a corner, felt a sting in his eye. Sparks flew upward, flames licked the sky.
“My baby! My baby!”, a mother screamed as she cried. Her house was on fire, her child still inside.
It caused him to tremble, to fret, to reel. Where most met with fear, it was courage he’d feel.
He peered through dark waters, took hold of his fate. A voice beckoned him, “Come through the gate.”
Surrounded by friends, family, mentors, and peers; He ignored the laud, the praise, the cheers.
They called them all saints, angels, heroes. From cadet to firefighter, again starting at zero.
He joined the department with one save under his belt. He thought nothing of it; no pride had he felt;
Except that which befell him at first alarm’s sound. By his side true men of valor, of that he was proud.
No longer a rookie, not considered a vet. “Respect you must earn!”, he did every chance he could get.
Fourth alarm had sounded, a new lesson to learn: The hunger of fire, and how hot it could burn.
The assignment was grim, to say the least. Thick darkness he must pass, into the belly of the beast.
His armor complete with the click of the mask. Breathe in, breathe out; now on to his task.
It caused him to tremble, to fret, to reel. Where most met with fear, it was courage he’d feel.
He peered through dark waters, took hold of his fate. A voice beckoned him, “Come through the gate.”
He battled the dragon….but the dragon won. His world became fire; ours….undone.
A hero has fallen.
We try to understand, to make sense, to make right. The battle for hope, we fight all through the night.
We look for an answer, someone to explain;
why good ones die young….why heroes are slain.
Our anger—a specter; our doubt—a wraith. The sadness is real and it’s killing our faith.
What also is true is what our God has done. He sent us a Savior! He gave us The One:
Who battled the dragon, the Victor—the Son! Our eyes lifted higher, Death’s work now undone….
The hero once fallen, now free he to hear, The voice of the Father…so sweet, so dear.
It caused him to tremble, to fret, to reel. Where most met with fear, it was courage he’d feel.
He peered through dark waters, took hold of his fate. A voice beckoned him, “My child, come through the gate.”
Awesome!
Thanks Bailous!