Posted in Everyday Happenings

Ohana means family

If you had told me two years ago that I would be happily working at a fire department in Midwest Missouri, I would have scoffed at you. And probably denounced our friendship. Why would I want to work for a Fire Department? I don’t want to put out fires.

Two years ago I was in Burbank, California. Living in a very cozy (read: tiny) apartment with a stranger that I found on Craigslist, and her two cats; working (though I’m not sure it could really be classified as anything more than slave labor) on the iconic Sunset Blvd in a small office building belonging to a small music publishing company who paid me sporadically (if I was lucky enough to get paid at all); eating ramen noodles and pb&j daily; and sleeping on a twin-sized air mattress— you could say I was living the dream!

California taught me a lot of things. It taught me how to do laundry, it taught me the basics of freeway driving (also known as a traffic jam), but most importantly, it revealed to me my basic desire for camaraderie. In California, I was lonely. That’s not to say I didn’t have friends, because I did. I had friends who were very good to me. But I just didn’t have that warm fuzzy feeling of camaraderie.

In October of 2012 I abandoned the life in California I was so sure I wanted in favor of moving back to the midwest. Beginning in January of 2013, I started working for my local, municipal government. To pay the bills (and to feed my giant puppy-love). As soon as I started in city hall, I was instantly drawn to the Fire Department.

Because everyone is drawn to good people. And everyone wants to belong. (And newsflash: Fire Departments basically run on camaraderie.)

I’ve met a lot of good people while working for our small, combination department, and my selfish heart is astonished to see the kind of people that walk through these doors. These are good, honest people with servant hearts. I hear a lot of people talking about how a each certain profession is the most self-sacrificing, but unless these people are firefighters, they are lying to you.

Whether they are reserve or career, firefighters are hands down the most self-sacrificing profession out there. And you would have no idea unless you are one, love one, or know one. And if you fall into one of the before mentioned categories, you’ve probably felt the ramifications of their sacrificing nature. Missed birthdays and holidays. Missed dinners and nights at home. Missed vacations. All in the name of public service. But, in my experience, I’ve found it’s hard to stay mad at someone over doing something so selfless.

Over my past year of working at the fire department I’ve learned a lot. I learned that the whole field is just a bunch of alphabet soup. And at this point, I know more acronyms than I care to admit (and I pretend to know more acronyms than I will ever admit).  I learned this importance of accuracy in all things. And, among the other, numberless, things that I learned, I learned that being a firefighter is less of a job, and more of a lifestyle. You don’t just chose to be a firefighter, you are called. You don’t just have “co-workers,” you have family members.

Firefighters truly care about one another, and about other people. They care an outrageous amount about people they don’t even know. I struggle to care about the people I do know, and these firefighters love people that they’ve never met before.

Yes, there is drama is the fire house, but there is drama in every family, right? But do you know what’s not always present in every family that is present in the fire house? Selflessness. No matter what drama may be going on, or how much “me, me, me” each person might be shouting behind closed doors, their basic nature is selfless, and they always come back to that.

Fire fighters are fiercely loyal, unfailingly kind, and incredibly hard-working (along with being quite the jovial, joking bunch). I’m not sure I’ve ever met a group quite like them. Each day I see my shortcomings more and more. I see my skewed priorities when I hear them talk about theirs. And just being around them makes me want to be a better person.

I’m sort of a work in progress, but at least I have a family to help me along the way.

I'm the one in the middle, in case you couldn't tell.
I’m the one in the middle, in case you couldn’t tell.

 

Posted in Everyday Happenings

Just like a tattoo, I’ll always have you

Yes, except it’s not like a tattoo, it is a tattoo. Believe it or not, I did actually get a tattoo. A week ago. Nothing crazy huge, or very detailed, but I got one and I love it, and that’s what matters.

Tara and I (you know my best friend? you can read her blog here) have sort of been planning this for months. We were talking about it last January, and then we realllllly talked about getting them while we were on vacation in June (and after reading what you are advised not to do with a new tattoo, I’m glad we didn’t because I did pretty much everything on the do not do list over that week), and we finally just set the date and did it.

I was terrified. The whole day leading up to it I kept trying to get out of it. I made a short list of the things I attempted to do to get out of getting a tattoo:

1. fake demon possession

2. get drunk (they won’t give you a tattoo if you’re drunk)

3. go back to California

4. fake a heart attack

5. pull a Rachel (from One Tree Hill) and drive Tara’s car off a bridge

6. commit a serious crime, forcing me to go to prison

7. pass out

8. walk out in front of a moving car

9. throw myself backwards out of a chair(causing a concussion, forcing me to go to the ER)

10. actual demon possession

Clearly, I did none of these. Number one because some of them are scarier than getting a tattoo (yeah, I’ve seen The Exorcist, demon possession is not on my to do list), plus Tara would have seen through the whole thing. So I did it. And it wasn’t that bad.

We went to Transformations Gallery & Tattoo in downtown Springfield. We chose this place because we were sort of already familiar with it because of it’s connection to Evangel University. We’d been in the gallery and knew some people who knew the owners, so we trusted them.

Going there was the perfect decision. Our artists name was Josh Tenneson. And he was awesome. We got there early and he was still in a session with someone else. Some guy who was in the process of getting something really big and detailed on his arm, some guy who looked much tougher than us. And they didn’t say much to each other. Which kind of had me worried, because I’m sort of a “laugh your way through things” kind of person. But, Josh seemed to adapt his approach to be funny when it was our turn. He was hilarious, which made things that much easier. If was ever going to get another tattoo, I would definitely go back to Transformation, because it was clean, and all the artists are crazy talented, and they made me feel comfortable. Even if it’s after I move to my North Carolina beach house. I will fly back to Missouri.  And I will always suggest them to people I know. They were awesome.

Getting a tattoo was probably one of the most anti-climatic things of my life, but in the best way possible. It didn’t hurt at all. It wasn’t super comfortable, but it also wasn’t like dying, which what I had made it out to be in my head. I had convinced myself that it was going to feel similar to being set on fire. It wasn’t similar at all. It wasn’t bad at all. In fact, I made another list, things that are more painful than getting a tattoo:

1. getting your eyebrows waxed

2. getting your legs waxed

3. carpet burn

4. paper cuts

5. traffic in LA

6. the hiccups

7. showering with a sunburn

8. anything that happens in a dentists office

9. that awful tingly sensation that happens when one of you extremities falls asleep

10. being a Chiefs fan

Getting a tattoo was easy. And it was fun.

Oh, and here are some pictures.