The Red Wooden Fire Truck

The Wooden Red Fire Truck

It was a cold Christmas morning, the house was silent and it was chilly. As I opened my eyes, my hand moved the bedroom window shade to the side. I could see that it was daylight and my thoughts about it being chilly were confirmed by the fresh layer of snow that covered everything within my sight. I slipped out of bed and as my feet lowered to the floor I felt the cool insides of my slippers. The silence seemed out of place for this morning. It was as though everyone had forgotten that it was Christmas and they remained captive to the sleep they had surrendered to the night before.

I slowly opened the bedroom door trying to make sure that it didn’t make any noise. I left the room and made my way down the hallway toward the living room where I knew that Christmas would be waiting. I had to watch my steps as there was a place in the hallway where the floor would creek if stepped on in normal walking. You would have thought that I was doing something unthinkable the way I was taking such care to not awaken anyone else. I am not sure who the any one was. It may have been just my mother and father or it could have included a brother.

I’m not really sure why I was so confident about this Christmas morning because this Christmas like all the others… how strange that I say that because I don’t recall any other Christmas’s like I do this one. I have recalled this journey often. Anyway, I was saying, I’m not really sure why I was so confident about this Christmas morning because this Christmas was preceded with words from my mother that tried to lower my expectations.

While the holidays in my household were not much, Christmas day was. As a child I never understood why as soon as the holidays would arrive my father seemed to disappear. With age I figured it out. My father was a chef and when people enjoyed the meal that he would prepare for them they would show their appreciation by sending him a drink. For an alcoholic that was not the best thing they could do for him or for our family. Of course they had no idea what the end result would be. The disappearance of my father usually meant less money for the family and that accounts for my having lived in eighteen different cities in three different states by age eighteen. We were always one step ahead of the landlord and the bill collectors.

I am a little confused here as all the details of this journey center around this one Christmas but much of the words sound or at least feel to me like a summary of all my childhood Christmas’s. Mom would always try to prepare me for nothing and then would somehow always provide something. In my mind this Christmas would be no different.

As I reached the end of the hallway I could already see the beautiful Christmas tree that had not existed the night before. Tradition… tradition in our house was that Santa Claus delivered the tree, and the decorations as well as the presents. Our Christmas trees were spectacular! It comes to mind that the real reason for our tradition may have been that trees got very cheap or free the night before Christmas. No matter they were beautiful. More lights than you could imagine being on one tree, ornaments that twinkled in the lights and most often no two alike. But the one thing that made our trees special was the tinsel. Long slinky silver strands that flowed softly in a breeze. I learned later that Santa didn’t deliver nor decorate the tree but it was mom and once in a great while dad. My first time assisting in carrying on the tradition for the younger family members brought scoldings and instruction that every strand of tinsel was carefully placed on that tree with precision. One strand at a time! The tree I was now gazing at was done just that way although I had not part in it. Lights blinking, ornaments sparkling and tinsel swaying with the rhythm of the heat being pumped into the room through the floor vent beside the tree. As I surveyed the room my attention was drawn to the large front window. There were two side panels that had white framing which made smaller window panes and then the center was wide open and it was there that the frost had formed on the inside covering it almost half way up. It made me shiver and I turned back to the tree to begin looking for the presents under it. This is the strange part. There is only one present. I have no clue as to my age in this journey so I can’t really say with any accuracy how many packages I should have expected.

To this day I do not remember asking for that red wooden fire truck. I also don’t remember ever playing with it. Not even that Christmas morning. It’s as though I was standing there asking “what’s up with this red wooden fire truck.” I also can’t tell you what happened to it.

I have no recollection of ever wanting to be a fireman or anything close to it. I have never heard any family members talk about me wanting it or becoming a fireman. And since all this is just now coming to light, long after my parent’s deaths, I have no one to ask. I just remember standing there in front of that beautiful Christmas tree starring at this large red wooden fire truck and then hearing someone say, “if it weren’t for Toys for Tots there would have been no Christmas this year.” Does this sound as strange to you as it does to me? I see myself look around but there is nobody there and then this journey is over. I have no other recollections of any other Christmas. I have tried with no success to go back into my memories many times and find more details or answers but to no avail. It’s as though there is some hidden meaning or lesson for me to get. Why else would I continue to recall that day? In my own family we never carried on the tradition of Santa bringing the Christmas tree and decorating it along with the gifts. Not really sure if we thought it was more work than we cared to take on or that we could actually afford to buy a tree days or weeks before.

Here’s what I do know. Christmas as a child was always a great time. I say great but the truth is that it was just the better of times. It was the only day that we were all together as family and the only day that there was no arguing or discussion of the family problems that plagued us the remaining 364 days of the year.

My initial analysis of this journey was simply this. There are many things in my lifetime that I do not remember asking for, but none the less ended up with them. I have found that life sometimes, no often, has been like that.

Around the sixth draft of this journey my wife pointed out that perhaps this journey is a symbolic vision. She went on to explain. Most of your life could be viewed as having been putting out fires. It’s possible she has hit on something. From seventh grade all the way till my parents died I was called upon to help extinguish financial fires. And during that same time period I was called on to provide emotional support for my mother. After I got married my brothers and sisters needed rescuing from the traps of drugs, alcohol and a life of crime. As I look back, almost every job I have had centered around my ability to bring resolve to difficult situations. I tell you, that has caused more frustration than satisfaction. For every situation that I could resolve there were two more that I couldn’t. In response that has caused a fair amount of unnecessary mental, emotional and physical pain. On more than one occasion it has caused me to doubt the very existence of God.

I have the ability to see all the journeys that will be included in this book of me. It’s true! According to these journeys I have been a fireman. I have wanted to rescue people. Maybe that’s in part because I could not rescue my family. Nobody could. Rescuing my family as best I could as a child became my task. But it goes deeper than that. I will sacrifice almost anything to fulfill the desire of others. It’s no wonder that I have difficulty sleeping at night. I have put myself on call. There have been hundreds of times when I have told people, “here’s a blank piece of paper. Write what you want on this paper and I’ll try to make it happen.” I wake up each day, put on my fire mans hat and then ride that large red wooden fire truck to the rescue of those whom I perceive are in need. It makes sense now. Here’s the meat of it. I have been on a search for significance. I have been trying to bring meaning to my life. This is probably the reason why God for three years spoke to me about being still and knowing. I know what you’re thinking. Three years is a long time. This in and of itself is not a destination. It’s a part of the bigger journey. This desire or need had become who I thought I was and more importantly who I thought others thought I was. People came to me for solutions to all sorts of situations and circumstances. I made a living in many different careers by solving problems. Oh… all those times I said, “This is God’s will.” How many times I told my family that I had to do this or that because God gave me these talents, abilities and gifting. Truth be told I see that for too many years it was all about me.

I am trying to retire from my position as a fireman. I am learning that my role in life is that I don’t have answers for anyone. But my desire is to stir their hearts to find their own answers. The way I am doing that is to share my journeys.

Thank God for His leading to write this book. I am now working to change that pattern of my life. That’s not to say that I no longer want to help people but the reason why I want to help and how I want to help has matured into a more healthy position for my life. This is a journey in progress.

Introduction

ARE WE THERE YET?

There’s not a parent alive that hasn’t heard those words before. You put a child on a plane, train or in an automobile and they are bound to ask sooner or later “Are we there yet?” And if you are better skilled than I, they will only ask it once.

God, over several years has revealed to me that I have asked this question over and over my entire life. “Am I There Yet?” As though there would be… this almost magical time when I would feel some sense of accomplishment or success in life. That the day would arrive when I would feel like I’d made a difference and all of life will have culminated at this one moment and make complete sense. That there would be a point were I would feel as though I have left my mark and that the world will be a better place even if only in a small part because I have lived.

At Christmas time most years I watch a movie called “It’s A Wonderful Life.” I don’t want to spoil the movie for those that have not seen it so I’ll just tell you that there is not a time of watching it that the tears don’t fill my eyes as I wonder what I would see if I were given the opportunity to see life without Ed in it.

As I began writing this book I am now forced to pause and wonder if I’d really like to see that or not. I think for now I’ll stick with the question of “Are we there yet.” And maybe the more basic question is, where is there? “God, please tell me where “there” is?” He responded, “Where, is the destination that you have set for yourself.” Then the voice inside me said, “Ed just write the book, we’ll talk along the way and I’ll clear things up for you.”

I guess until recently I have always seen God, and eternity as a destination. Eternity with God is where I want to end up. Isn’t that why I was created? That belief is being torn apart thought by thought. More specifically I have been learning that life is a journey and eternity is not a destination. It’s a journey in relationships with God, myself and others. In this book are some of the journeys I have taken. It is not my intent to teach anyone reading this book anything. I am simply sharing my journey for anyone interested. Some time ago I watched a television documentary on some one’s life. Near the end of the show they were asking questions of this individual about what he would pass on to viewers of the show. It was as though he looked me in the eyes and spoke, “don’t try to teach people what you think you know, but just share your stories with them. Then from your stories they will apply or use what is meaningful to them. My hope is that my children, my grandchildren and for generations to come to read this and know what was important to papa which is what they call me. Most importantly I would like for them to know how important my personal and intimate relationship with God is or was depending on when you’re actually reading this.

That being said the following are my personal journeys and when put all together they make up the story of me. This book is to minister to me and I am already experiencing some revelations about myself as I write the words on these pages. What will they all look like or what shape will they have when I finish writing, I have no idea. If your spirit is stirred by anything you read then that same spirit will also apply it to your life. I am writing this out of obedience to the Father and I have no expectation of anyone who reads it. I do however have great expectancy to see and hear what God does with it. I know that His plan for it may be no more than me writing it. But, I am also aware that He may have other plans that will take place in times, places and ways that I can not possibly comprehend as of this writing. With that please feel free to email me your thoughts regarding any or all of these journeys. Your in-put will serve to improve the writing and may even bring back more detail than what I have remembered.

The blogs are in no particular order as of yet. I am writing as it comes to me and once I am finished then I'll put it all together.