PRAY TEAM JESUS!

Yosemite National Park closes as wildfires scorch West Coast
The federal government-run air quality monitor, Airnow.gov, showed that pollutant levels in the park were so high that they exceeded the site’s index.

Read in NBC News: https://apple.news/ApAgIZ7EBRtmpM3wYyYdnlQ

Shared from Apple News

Fireman’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 to embrace a little child
Before it’s too late,
Or some 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 give the best in me,
To guard my neighbor
And protect his property.

And if according to Your will
I have to lose my life,
Please bless with Your protecting hand
My children and my wife

History of the Fireman’s Prayer

The only way he could find to ease the pain of such a tragedy was to sit down and put his thoughts on paper. The phrase, “enable me to be alert and hear the weakest shout”, sends a chill up a firefighter’s spine as you imagine what he experienced on that fateful night. It was a particularly tough time for him as he had young children around the same age.While most accounts of the Firemen’s Prayer conclude with Author Unknown, the world renowned poem was written by Firefighter A.W. “Smokey” Linn. As a young firefighter in 1958 Linn and his crew responded to a fire in which three children were trapped behind security bars and died in the fire.

His granddaughter, Penny McGlachlin said that back then there were no grief counselors to help the firefighters. Penny believes this was an actual prayer from him, to god for the sake of his own family, the other fireman, and the families of the children.

Smokey joined the Wichita, Kansas Fire Department in 1947 after returning from World War 2. He retired in 1975 and became president of the local chapter of the Good Sam Camping Club. He passed away March 31, 2004 of complications following surgery.

The Fireman’s Prayer was originally published in a book called, “A Celebration of Poets” in 1958. The last copyright of the book was 1998. It is the family’s desire that the credit for the Firemen’s Prayer go to the author, A.W. Smokey Linn.

The picture is of me and my Dad, Wally Moede. He served faithfully for many years on the Windom, Minnesota Fire Dept. Grandpa Chris Moede did the same in the early 1900’s. My cousin John Moede also served. I served on the Osceola, Indiana Fire Dept. back in the 80’s for 3 years. This picture had to be taken in the early 80’S.

A Fireman’s Glove

A fireman’s gloves hold many things
From elderly arms to a kids broken swing
From the hand they shake and the back they pat
To the tiny claw marks of another treed cat
At 2am they are filled with chrome
From the DUI who was on her way home
And the equipment they use to roll back the dash
From the family she involved in that crash

The brush rakes in spring, that wear the palms out
When the wind does a 90 to fill them with doubt
The thumb of the glove wipes the sweat from the brow
Of the face of a fireman who mutters What Now?

They hold an inch and three quarters flowing one twenty five
So the ones going in, come back alive
When the regulators ring; then there isn’t too much
But the bypass valve they eagerly clutch

The rescue equipment, the ropes, the C collars
The lives they saved never measured in dollars
Are the obvious things a fireman’s gloves hold
Or so that is what I’ve always been told

But there are other things those gloves do touch
Those are the things we all need so much

The hold back the rage on that 3am call
They hold in the fear when you’ve lost the wall
They hold back the pity, agony, sorrow
They hold in the desire to do it tomorrow.

A glove, just a glove till it’s on a firefighter
Who worked all day just to pull an all night’er
And into the fray they charge without fear
At the sound of help they think they hear.

Off comes the gloves when the call is done
And into the pocket until the next run
The hands become lonely and cold for a bit
And even shake just thinking of it
They’re not so brave now; their hands they can’t hind
I guess it just means they are human inside

And though some are paid and others are not
The gloves feel the same when its cold or its hot
To someone you’re helping to just get along
When you fill them with love, you always feel strong

And so when I go on my final big ride
I hope to have my gloves close by my side
To show to St. Peter at the heavenly Gates
Cause as we all know, Firefighters just don’t wait

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