^{FIREFIGHTER'S PRAYER
When I am called to duty, God
Whenever flames may rage,
Give me the strength to save some life
Whatever be its age,
Help me embrace a little child
Before it is too late
Or save an older person from
The horror of that fate
Enable me to be alert and
Hear the weakest shout
And quickly and efficiently
To put the fire out
I want to fill my calling and
To give the best in me,
To guard my every neighbor and
Protect his property
And if according to my fate
I am to lose my life,
Please bless with your protecting hand
My children and my wife.
-Anon}
 

^{Gone But Not Forgotten}
"Hey mom,!" He yelled from the attic door, "What's these old heavy boots and hard hat for?"
With a lump in her throat and a tear stained cheek, His mother swallowed and started to speak.
"Come here my son," his mother said, "There's things to tell when I clear my head."
The past raced madly through her mind; She searched her heart, the words to find.
At last she sighed and rubbed his hair, And the words that followed I'd like to share.
"Those boots and hat," she said with pride, "Were worn by a man with grit inside.
He wore them to help people in need, Though facing danger, would never concede.
Many a time in the dead of the night, He jumped in those boots and flashed out of sight.
To answer a call and not knowing for sure What danger or heartache he may have to endure.
Your father, my son, was not like most dads, It was mainly because of the job that he had.
His life was devoted to all of mankind, And just why he choose it, is not clear in my mind.
I've often regretted the life that we led, When every third night I was alone in our bed.
But your mother is proud to say she was a part Of a man who possessed such a courageous heart.
Though, for all his discomfort and all of his pain The time he spent here was never in vain.
So the memories I've kept and the love I will save Are small consolations for the life that he gave.
Your father's days here made other's seem brighter, For your father, my son, was a Firefighter."
^{by
Firefighter James Price
Jefferson Parish Fire Department}

I Wish You Could See

I wish you could know what it is like to search a burning bedroom for trapped children,
flames rolling above your head, your palms and knees burning as you crawl, the floor
sagging under your weight as the kitchen below you burns.

I wish you could comprehend a wife's horror at 3 in the morning as I
check her husband of 40 years for a pulse and find none.
I start CPR anyway, hoping to bring him back, knowing intuitively it is too late.
But wanting his wife and family to know everything possible was
done to try to save his life.

I wish you knew the unique smell of burning insulation, the taste of soot-filled
mucus, the feeling of intense heat through your turnout gear, the sound of
flames crackling, the eeriness of being able to see absolutely nothing in dense
smoke-sensations that I've become too familiar with.

I wish you could understand how it feels to go to work in the morning after having
spent most of the night, hot and soaking wet at a multiple alarm fire.

I wish you could read my mind as I respond to a building fire;  Is this a false alarm
or a working fire? How is the building constructed? What hazards await me?
Is anyone trapped? Or to an EMS call, What is wrong with the patient? Is it minor
or life-threatening? Is the caller really in distress or is he waiting for us with a 2x4 or gun?

I wish you could be in the emergency room as a doctor pronounces dead the
beautiful five-year old girl that I have been trying to save during the last 25 minutes.
Who will never go on her first date or say the words, I love you Mommy again.

I wish you could know the frustration I feel in the cab of the engine or my personal
vehicle, the  driver with his foot pressing down hard on the pedal, my arm tugging
again and again at the air horn chain, as you fail to yield the right-of-way at an
intersection or in traffic. When you need us however, your first comment upon
our arrival will be, It took you forever to get here!

I wish you could know my thoughts as I help extricate a girl of teenage years from the
remains of her automobile. What if this was my sister, my girlfriend or a friend?
What were her parents reaction going to be when hey opened the door to
find a police officer with hat in hand?

I wish you could know how it feels to walk in the back door and greet my parents
and family, not having the heart to tell them that I nearly did not come back from
the last call. I wish you could feel the hurt as people verbally, and sometimes physically,
abuse us or belittle what I do, or as they express their attitudes of,
"It will never happen to me".

I wish you could realize the physical, emotional and mental drain or missed meals,
lost sleep and forgone social activities, in addition to all the tragedy my
eyes have seen. I wish you could know the brotherhood and self- satisfaction
of helping save a life or preserving someone's property, or being able to be here
in time of crisis, or creating order from total chaos.

I wish you could understand what it feels like to have a little boy tugging At your arm
and asking, Is Mommy okay? Not even being able to look in his eyes without
tears from your own and not knowing what to say. Or to have to hold back
a long time friend who watches his buddy having rescue breathing done on
him as they take him away in the ambulance. You know all along he did not
have his seat belt on. A sensation that I have become too familiar with.

Unless you  have lived with this kind of life, you will never truly Understand or appreciate
who I am, we are, or what our job really means to us...

I wish you could though.
-author unknown-