If you have read some of my previous posts, you know that in what feels like another life, I was a firefighter. I have a love/hate relationship with that part of my past; a lot of good came from that time, and a lot of pain came from that time.
Sometimes the most mundane acts can trigger a memory, and suddenly I am right back in the midst of my past. It used to paralyze me; I would lock up for about five minutes or so, not really engaging in what I had been doing at the time the memory hit. Fortunately, that has subsided, and I have been able to take valuable lessons out of what I have experienced when I remember those things.
I share this story because it is full of lessons for me, and I hope it contains a lesson or two* for you. As for what those are, I might save that for another post and let you think about it for a while.
___________________________________________________
Last night (8.21.12) as I was walking through a parking lot it was the warm night air that sent me back to a sunny day several years ago that, without wanting to sound dramatic, was almost the last day I was alive.
Occasionally, the fire department assisted the forestry department with "controlled burns," which took place when land needed to be cleared without hauling loads and loads of timber away. Instead of hoses, we carried drip torches and shovels, and large bulldozers would create fire breaks and clearings to prevent the fire from spreading beyond the intended area.
One day, I joined a few other firefighters and a couple of forestry guys to burn trees that were in piles about 100'x100' and between 25' and 40' tall on about ten or 12 acres of land. This was the largest controlled burn I had been involved with. I don't recall the temperature, but it was hot and the sun was shining. We normally wore jeans, boots and t-shirts to stay as protected, but as cool as we could.
After we lit the piles, we watched to make sure they were burning evenly and fully. Fire sometimes creates it's own weather, and I watched as "tornados" of flame shot up and twirled around in the air, the wind picked up and frequently changed direction, and the sunlight became dull under a thickening blanket of white smoke. I pulled my shirt over my nose every couple of minutes as the air became slightly acrid.
The forestry department brought a 4-wheeler because of the size of the land we were burning, and after we all regrouped another firefighter decided to drive along the outside edge to check on the piles we could not see. The rest of us waited for about ten minutes, and I began to worry that something may have gone wrong. I began to walk around the outside perimeter of the land to check on the other firefighter. As soon as I got to the end of the first pile, I decided I needed to get a better vantage point, so I walked through the fire break (dirt path) between the first and second piles toward the center of the property. I very quickly realized that because of the heat and the smoke and the fact that no one could see me and I did not have a radio, this was a horrible idea. I immediately and calmly began to return to the group. Instead of going back to the outside of the property, however, I walked between two more piles in the direction of the group. No one could see me, and no one knew exactly where I had gone.
After about ten or 20 seconds (I guess) of walking toward safety, the heat and smoke became unbearable and my reality instantly changed. Walking through that heat had drawn every ounce of energy from my body, and I was thoroughly exhausted. The first thought I had was "How in the world do I have absolutely no energy left?"
Then, a second thought locked in my mind; "I am too tired, this is too hot and I can't make it back. I am going to lay down right here right now and just die." I am not in any way exaggerating or dramatizing that. As mind-boggling as it is, that thought was the only thing that made sense. The heat was so intense that I did not care that I had about 20 more feet to walk to safety (I could actually hear the other firefighters' and forestry guys' voices), and I was ready - without any second thought - to lay down and die. I cannot express more plainly or seriously that as strange as it seems, my desire to live was completely gone. I stopped walking and began to bend my knees toward the ground.
As soon as I bent my right knee, I heard a new voice. It was the firefighter I had been looking for, and it came from the area we both started out from. That voice was like a shot of common sense and courage, and I stood back up and dragged myself up the hill those last 20 or so feet. It was the most difficult walk I have ever made. Every step felt like a mile, and the thirst I felt was the strongest I've experienced.
Everyone was there, safe and sound, myself included. I did not tell anyone what had happened moments before, and this is the first time I've shared this experience with anyone.
It is my prayer that relating my experience might be used to encourage and inspire, and that those who read this will find their own lessons...
*I give all the glory to God for saving me that day, and He is at the center of every lesson that came from this experience.
