Time to serve and save

 

True story of Granite Hill Fire

Chris had never been known to be a “waiter”; instead he always threw himself headlong into many diverse adventures…here, there, here...He loved the adrenalin rush, the way it drove him. After that rush came his pride and carelessness.

Who and what Chris was then changed radically when he became a man whose greatest desire in life was to wait upon the Lord.  

Be intense, diligent… …taking on the most mundane of tasks.  Wait upon the Lord…were the words running through his mind when the alarm bell rang.

“Take it, Chris!” cried out a fellow fireman. At the clunk sound of hose thrown to him, adrenaline surged. Gripping the heavy hose tightly, Chris reminded himself ”Time to serve!” as he raced into the blazing house.

YouTube from movie "Fireproof". Video is about 4 min. long.

2015 Yarnell Arizona Fire

June 30, 2015

Arizona family

The underlined words are from Wednesday Words, from April 2015. These are for challenging writer, once provided and encouraged by several bloggers. 

The Granite Hill fire was a horror we cannot ignore. Wildfires spread so quickly.

Measure of a Man

Hold my hand, daughter.

God, history, and hormones arranged how each gender performed in a family unit. Who did what? Man and Woman with their progeny struggled to survive in a sometimes harsh life. 

Man=hunt, impregnate, and kill. Woman=give birth, care for children, gather. Pretty straightforward, wouldn't you say? 

Some would say that there has been a radical turn-around. While many parts of this mixture remain solid, others shift around a bit. Given the changes in society and its needs, change in inevitability is natural.

Whether there is a dad or a mom in the home does not change a primary focus:
their family.

Mother's Day

Men walk through a mall carrying a pink diaper bag.  Women wear combat fatigues when walking their children to school. Men return from work on a motorcycle. Women take the cycle and head out. Men make quilts while women repair pipes. Men and Women both cook. Some better than others.

Things change, things stay the same. 

  It takes a real man to feel safe in his role, whether it has changed or not.

It takes a real man to accept what he will do, what he can do.

It takes a real man to be the husband or partner to his beloved while both hold onto their family unit. 

And, it takes a real man to change a diaper. 

Hidden from sight

Wet clothing pinned and clipped on lines
Towels and pants on one high end,
Sheets and shirts other end of twines,
Hanging down low as centers bend.

But, in the middle, too shy to publicly fly,

Hangs the underwear, bleached and white.

Playing hide and seek from those near-by,

Wanting oh-so-badly to take flight.

Oh, for a strong wind to play,
Coming across and sweeping away
The blues, the whites, and the gray,
Onto tractor windows, passing this day.

Bras, panties with hearts, boxers brave

Landing square on a farmer's face,

No dignity there is left to save,

Underwear at last has found a place.

I have had much experience with laundry on the line, years and years of it.  

I wrote this poem with a head full of memories and my mother's commands to hang the underwear in the middle of the second line, out of sight.  "We don't want neighbors to see what we wear." 

 Neighbors?  The nearest lived one half  a mile away.  The lines were behind the house.  But I was obedient. 

If anyone wants to sing the praises of laundry drying on clothesline, go ahead. I will not be agreeing with you. Too many memories of laundry basket after each other has left me with a desire to never dry clothes out blowing in the wind. Sorry.