Tulsa’s Finest Firefighter

Sure, I’m a little biased. But, I do believe Biceps to be “Tulsa’s Finest Firefighter”-although there may be other wives around here who would disagree.

And sure, according to his training officers, he’s not even allowed to call himself a “Tulsa Firefighter” until he graduates from the Academy.

These are mere technicalities.

I asked him when the calendar comes out and he just laughed.

Biceps returned from tour on Sunday and we quickly prepared for his first day at the Academy which started Monday. It was a strange transition-a roast was cooking in the crockpot, I was starching his dress blues and he was polishing his boots.

I had to laugh. This was my parent’s typical Sunday routine. The smell of shoe polish will forever remind me of my father spit-shining his army boots and the smell of roast cooking will forever remind me of Sunday meals after church.

He looks rather sleepy in the photos, and he is. We get up while the moon is still high in the sky, the birds still have their cute wings over their eyes and the cats are still passed out. He then returns home exhausted, falls into bed around 8 and starts twitching by 8:30.

It’s weird but cute.

I’m so proud of what Biceps’ has accomplished.

And, I still want to know when the calendar comes out. But just give me his “month” and I’ll be happy.

Oklahoma and Biceps are Fighting Fire

Oklahoma, like many parts of the United States, is on fire. Both June and July have had high temperatures over 90 degrees. And little rain.

It’s the perfect storm for unintentional grass and structure fires, along with the intentional arsonists dreams coming true. One little spark and poof-down goes a whole neighborhood.

(Photo Source)
Biceps came home yesterday morning with bloodshot eyes, less than two hours sleep and the hope of a nap.

After helping him unpack his smelly clothes, throwing him in the shower and feeding him, his head fell hard on the pillow. Twitching ensued for several minutes until it was “light’s out” for Biceps.

(Photo Source)
A mere 21 hours later, after dressing in his fresh clothes, packing him a lunch, Biceps left at 5 am to start it all over again.

Please pray for the safety of all firefighters-paid and volunteer. And if you have a local fire station close to you, I know from experience that a quick “thank you” from time to time makes the firefighter’s day. Along with cake. They really like cake.

What Biceps Does to Worry Me

I know I shouldn’t worry, but it’s that danged thorn in my flesh. Don’t shoot Bible bullets at me-I realize I have a problem. I know the things to meditate on, I know what to confess.

I know, I know, I know.

Biceps decided to leave a somewhat safe 11 year-long career to pursue firefighting. Don’t get me wrong, there were the occasional lightening storms during outdoor festivals, whiteouts while driving across North Dakota, bloody knuckles from smashing his bass guitar against an amp and the most dreaded thing of all-scantily clad groupies.

But he chose to become a firefighter and I supported him wholeheartedly. I was ecstatic that we would be home more often, knowing that I could go to church on a more regular basis. That I could be present for birthdays, births and bar mitzvahs. That I didn’t have to be surrounded by stinky boys.

However, this is what I am getting used to now.

I now hear tales of structure fires, trailer fires, Hazmat situations, donkey kicking doors in, medical emergencies and the like. I want to be tough and pretend as if I would like to hear all about it.

But imagine your loved one fighting a chemical fire while being weighed down with 50 pounds of gear in 108 degree temperature. This is how Biceps makes me worry.

This is when I grab my aged Bible and look for 1 Peter 5:7, “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” I think this will be my mantra for the rest of my life…or at least for the rest of Bicep’s fire career.