Did I ever tell you all that my dad is a firefighter?
Yea, he is. Since he was about 16 years old, in fact. I won't spread his age around on the internet, butttt...he's been doing it a long, long time.
In my eyes, he's pretty much the smartest guy ever when it comes to all things firefighting-related. He not only runs a very successful company completely built around it, but, serves as a Fire Chief at his local department directing from the outside now, and using his expertise to make sure things go smoothly on the inside. Because of his business and his leadership, he's pretty known in the area among the fire departments all around.
Well, last week in the city I live in there was a rippin' apartment fire. I mean, it was bad. I believe it all started from a cigarette (those friggin' cigarettes...people! stop!smoking!). It was one of those apartment complexes that have the open stairways about 3 stories high that then lead to different apartment doors...it was a nice, newer complex.
The fire got crazy, fast. Many of my dad's friends (and guys who I know) were in there fighting it trying to save the people who lived there. Since my dad's department didn't respond to that call, he sat up and listened on his radio to what was going on instead.
Stairwells were collapsing 3 stories down (cement.steps.people!), and it was providing an extremely scary environment...fast. As soon as my dad heard on the scanner radio that firefighters were getting injured, burned and had broken bones, he got dressed (middle of the night), and went directly to the hospital to be a familiar face as they got there.
Luckily, not one of the residents who lived there got injured, as all the firefighters sacrificed their own safety to get them out. From what I heard, about 80-100 people were out of homes because of the fire.
But the firefighters? Many of them were injured. The majority of them are very good friends to my pops.
One friend severely burned both of his hands because he had to remove his gloves to get his hands out of a pile of debris so large he could have gotten stuck. Another friend broke both legs because he had to jump a story + down to save himself. Another friend burned his eyelids...the list goes on and on.
After my dad spent some time with his friends a few days ago, and heard their stories in more depth there was one common denominator.
All of them could recall the fact that they were inches away from near death situations. One foot from one guy, all 3 floors came crashing down. Had he have been inches over, he would have been killed. The stories went on and on.
In comparing stories and talking about what happened that early morning, turns out, they all kept saying "Well, this man in the red helmet helped me...", and "There was this man in the red fire helmet who I saw while in the fire....", "The guy in the red helmet was with me, but he wasn't wearing an air-pack..."
No one in any of the fire departments wears a red helmet.
Every one of those firemen had their lives spared....saved...just inches away from death experiences, yet they were alive to tell their stories of survival.
But, each and every one of them remember this firefighter, in a red helmet, who was present in their time of need.
I don't know about any of you...but that story sends chills down my spine.
Because, I believe in Angels. I do.
I believe that Angels can take on human form to be there in our time of need...and God can send them to protect us, to move us inches away from a scene that could be harmful.
That man in the red helmet? He was an angel.
He never did come "out" of the fire. He didn't need to.
God is capable of supernatural things. And Biblically? One of an angel's "job description" is to deliver and protect people in harms way.
I don't know about you guys...but I find that so amazingly cool, and that multiple guys had their lives saved while saving others.