There once was a little girl
named Jor…Suzie. Suzie dreamed of
all the things a little girl dreamed for- a handsome prince of a husband, a
couple of children who are an ideal combination of sweet and creative
orneriness and prompt obedience (but each at just the appropriate time), and a
dog…okay, maybe not a dog- throw in an extra kid to replace the dog and call it
good. But a key theme throughout the
dream is safety. Safe. To be safe, sound and secure. Suzie didn’t dream dangerous dreams. In fact, Suzie might be described as a
relatively low risk type of person.
Suzie might recall even saying once “I could never marry a police
officer, a fire fighter or a military person- those jobs would be just too
scary.” But God had a different plan for Jor..er Suzie…
I mean Jordan.
Okay. I give up.
This story isn’t about Suzie. I’m
Suzie…metaphorically. I was trying to throw you off by saying Suzie…but I meant me. Shocker.
Okay- so fast forward all the
years and today I’m a Fire Fighters’ wife.
A very proud Fire Fighters wife, I might add. I love my handsome fire fighter and don’t
mind the mornings that he comes home smelling like charcoal (even though they
are outnumbered by the mornings he comes home smelling like sweaty man). I love when he occasionally brings home a
newspaper article with his picture or a story about his bravery. I love taking Gavin and Harper to the station
to see the fire trucks and both adore and hate that Gavin can now step into his
daddy’s bunker gear with a little more fit then he used to. I love that I can say my husband has delivered
a baby, has saved a family’s home and has maybe even rescued a cat from a tree
once.
But being a Fire Fighter’s wife
wasn’t ever on my list of things to do.
It’s not safe…for a variety of reasons. Partially, because I’m a “people”
person and when my main person isn’t around..which is more than a third of my
life, I’m not quite as good at being me. Partially, because so many of our moments-including Christmases, holidays, birthdays and nothing-special-but-just-sweet-moments
are spent without our 4th family member, which can be both
bittersweet, painful and just down right lonely. Partially, because the thing I used to fear
most about a job was losing it, but now a very real worst fear about my
husband’s job is losing him. And partially, because I’m low-risk, high anxiety
and like to have my ducks in a row.
There are a number of jobs that I
would have been perfectly happy with my husband being;
Doctor, dietician, lawyer,
Butcher, baker or candlestick
maker,
Claims adjuster, chiropractor,
Contortionist
Food critic, Blacksmith, welder,
reporter
Pastor, pilot, traveling
magician, writer, or professional kite flyer...
But never on the radar was Fire
Fighter.
And for a portion of this past
year, I set my sights on the idea that 2013 might be the last year that we
lived our life as a Fire Fighter family.
And because my husband loves me as selflessly as he does, he started
envisioning his life this way as well.
And I checked the days off of my calendar…
Until one day, God told us
no. It wasn’t that there wasn’t an
opportunity. There was. A great opportunity. It wasn’t even that my heart changed. It did not.
But God worked in both of our hearts a realization of something that would
have brought me to a puddle of tears if it had been spoken in other parts of this
year. God was able to make clear to both
of us this passion that Matthew has for his profession. His calling.
Somewhere in my quest for “safe” I’d forgotten the thing that Matthew
says he loves most about his job- he says “I know I’m going to meet someone on
what is probably the worst day of their life and I get to help them through
it.” I forgot that sitting at a job that
you hate…or even that you like just fine but aren’t called to, can be one of
the most unfulfilling feelings in the world.
I forgot that the cushiest corner office is not safer then being in
God’s will. I forgot that God went with
Daniel into the furnace, Moses into the sea, David to face a violent
giant…surely He can be with my family in our day-to-day.
On my toughest Fire Fighter wife
days, this light weight wife has been tempted with the thought “I never signed
up for this!” I wanted a husband who
would be home at 6:05 for dinner every night, who I wouldn’t have to count in
thirds on the calendar to see if he’ll be able to accompany me to a wedding or a holiday...or a Saturday, and
who I didn’t have to end my days with our “good night” phone call being ended
by the tones of another fire call ringing out- try going to sleep after
that! But God reminded me gently and
lovingly that I didn’t make a vow to a non- Fire Fighter- I made a vow to
Matthew- who was at that day and time a blank slate. Conveniently for me, “for better
and for worse” also covers neurotic wives who may or may not call the
firefighter dispatch line with a disguised voice and fake accent asking how
“all of the fires and fire men are doing” when her husband hasn’t called back by 2
am…
Who would have ever picked their
obstacle? Who would have picked cancer or
infertility or job loss or a number of things- most of which my little upset bubble
cannot even compare with? And those
mornings when I’m mumbling under my breath, running late with a baby on my hip
and sweat running down my back, I can at least rest in knowing I have a husband
that loves me and loves us and is working very hard for his family.
So in this year of contentment
that God has given the Cox Family, my husband will keep living his passion and
doing the job that God has called him to for this season of life…and I will put
on my big girl panties and know that while I didn’t ever intentionally pick
this for my own life…God picked me for this.
And that His grace is sufficient for me.
