Tuesday, May 04, 2010

Putting out fires . . . in more ways than one

We were paged out for a barn fire at 4:45 yesterday afternoon. I was coming home from Butte and was just outside of town. I still managed to be on the second vehicle responding.

It turned out to be not a barn fire but another fire of unknown origin that got away and took hold in several haystacks -- about 150 tons of it. If you don't know, hay fires can't be put out; they need to burn themselves out. I likened a hay fire to creme broulee (sp) -- crispy on the outside and warm and soft on the inside. This was a big deal and we had five departments responding. Then, when it was under control, we sent people home and had a crew patrolling the fire line. I was on that crew. I got home 40 minutes prior to this post. I'm going to bed later.

Oh yeah . . . I missed bar night.

In other fires, I'm currently trying to figure out how to preach to a congregation that is more interested in keeping their building than in keeping their priest. I'm sure I'll think of something.

1 comments:

Unknown | 10:13 AM, May 04, 2010  

I used this sermon illustration a few weeks ago...

Unamuno, the Spanish philosopher, tells about the Roman aqueduct at Segovia, in his native Spain. It was built in 109 A.D. For eighteen hundred years, it carried cool water from the mountains to the hot and thirsty city. Nearly sixty generations of men drank from its flow. Then came another generation, a recent one, who said, "This aqueduct is so great a marvel that it ought to be preserved for our children, as a museum piece. We shall relieve it of its centuries-long labor."


They did; they laid modern iron pipes. They gave the ancient bricks and mortar a reverent rest. And the aqueduct began to fall apart. The sun beating on the dry mortar caused it to crumble. The bricks and stone sagged and threatened to fall. What ages of service could not destroy idleness disintegrated.

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