A FIREMAN’S JOURNEY TO "GROUND ZERO”.

TAKEN FROM A FIREMANS JOURNAL

How do you describe what occurred on Sept. 11, 2001. I am sure most Americans will never forget that day. They will remember where they were, and exactly what they were doing when they heard the news. I can only think of one other event that impacted me in a similar way. I was five years old and had been playing in our front yard when I went inside to find my mother crying in front of our black and white television. I asked her what was wrong and she told me that President Kennedy had just been shot and killed. I didn’t know what that meant but I knew something significant had happened. I will never forget that day, nor will I ever forget Sept. 11, 2001.

I had that same sinking feeling as we all watched with horror our country being attacked. I was at Fire Station 19 on the second 24 of a 48-hour shift. There are 6 men per shift assigned at our station, and we were just starting what we thought would be a routine day. We were sitting at the kitchen table reading the morning newspaper with a fresh pot of coffee brewing. The television was on, broadcasting the morning news. There were reports of a terrible "accident" at the World Trade Center in New York City. Apparently an airplane had accidentally struck the North Tower of the World Trade Center. As the pictures began coming in, a second airplane struck the South Tower. In disbelief we began watching what would become the worst terrorist act in the history of the United States.

Soon reports and pictures started coming in that the Pentagon in Washington D.C. had been struck. Then word came that another jet had gone down somewhere in Pennsylvania, passengers had apparently thwarted hijackers plans to run the jet into another target in Washington DC, possibly the White House or the Capital. What was happening? Who would dare strike the United States in the heart like this? And even more sobering was the thought, how could anyone possibly get away with this? Who could have believed we were this vulnerable.

As we sat there glued to the television my thoughts turned to my wife and kids. I called to tell them to turn on the television, something terrible was happening. We home school our kids so I told them today’s lesson would be a lesson in World history. I told them to keep the TV on CNN and watch what was unfolding and pray for the nation. As emotions welled, fear began to turn to anger, as the reality set in that this tragedy was the work of cowardly terrorists. As the broadcasters covered the story the unthinkable began to unfold. The South tower of the WTC began to collapse, and collapse it did, pan caking all the way to the ground. Was this a bad dream? Dumbfounded, the men and I looked at each other and all we could say was, "Oh my God is this really happening?" I prayed silently as we sat there speechless staring at the TV.

About 20 minutes later the North tower of the WTC collapsed. All that remained of the crown jewels of New York City, indeed of the nation, was a twisted, tangled mass of concrete, steel, and glass. Tons of suffocating dust and pulverized concrete enveloped emergency workers at ground level who could not escape the falling debris. Suddenly it began to dawn on us that these emergency workers were our fellow brother firemen and police answering the call for help. These were the men and women running in to save lives. For you see, this is our calling.

My stomach began to twist and turn and a lump developed in my throat. The debris cloud looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. Hollywood could not have thought of a scenario so outrageously improbable. Masses of people trying to outrun this boiling cloud of death and destruction. Reports were coming in that possibly tens of thousands of people were in the towers unable to escape. The reality set in that the loss of life was going to be enormous. How do you react to something like this? Who could be behind this? What kind of evil could perpetrate an act like this? Taking innocent life in such a horrific and diabolical way. My prayers turned to questions. Why Lord have you allowed this evil to happen? What good will come out of this?

My thoughts were interrupted by the screech of the fire station’s vocals. Our Fire Chief, Morris Hueling, came over the vocals to announce that the city, indeed the nation had been placed on the highest alert. All apparatus were to remain in the stations and the only exceptions would be for emergency response. Soon the nation’s airports were closed; an unprecedented event. However there were still aircraft in the air that were unaccounted for. Were they headed for still unknown targets? The suspense was unnerving. The day dragged on very slowly as the scope of the tragedy unfolded. We sat around the TV unable to detach and pull ourselves away. The only reassuring moment of the day was when President Bush came on vowing to find and punish the perpetrators. Still I wondered how he was going to accomplish that.

The next morning finally came and as our relief crew came in there was a strange somberness and seriousness in the air that we were not accustomed to. I went home and hugged my wife and kids thanking God they were safe and that there were no new reports of terrorist strikes. By this time the chief suspect, Osama Bin Ladin, had become a household word. I thought about the terrible and perverse heart of this man, who could not only think of, but carry out such a chilling and appalling deed. Its one thing to think those kinds of terrible thoughts, but to act on them and get other men to follow suit is almost unimaginable. I thought about Adolph Hitler and others in history that had committed similar acts, and I was reminded of the total depravity of mankind apart from God.

The next few days were really a blur. We began to see the terrible blow our nation’s largest, and arguably most traditional, Fire Department had suffered. Hundreds of firefighters and rescue workers were missing and presumed dead. The Emergency Command Post had been buried in the rubble, along with the top senior officers of FDNY including the Chief of the Department Peter Ganci, Chief of Special operations Ray Downey, and Deputy Commissioner William Feehan. The oldest fireman and the youngest fireman in the Dept. were also killed. Even the Fire Dept. Chaplain Mychal Judge was reportedly killed as he administered last rites to a firefighter that had been hit by a falling woman. How could this Department ever recover from such senseless and tragic loss? I wanted to help, but what could I do? I felt so inadequate and helpless. Lord, I prayed, “Help me to understand why, and help me to know what to do.”

As the week went on and the threat of further violence seemed to subside somewhat, life began to return to some normality. In my heart I knew the world would never be the same. How could it be? By the end of the week there was a call from FEMA for the New Mexico Urban Search and Rescue Team to deploy to the Pentagon in Washington DC. I was on duty so I was privileged to help them get ready to go. As we took care of physicals and loaded supplies, I felt myself being strangely jealous of these men preparing to go help in the rescue effort. As we loaded the men on the busses, Fire Chief Hueling was there to see them off, I was proud to see my brothers off on their first official USAR deployment. I also thought about my own career and all the opportunities I have had in the last 19 years to help people, to make a real difference in people’s lives. What a job, to be able to help people and get paid for it! I pinched myself; yes it was true, I was not dreaming. I have the greatest job in the world. Thank you Lord, I am grateful for this great calling! So off they went, running on adrenalin to do hero’s work at the Pentagon. Lord, I prayed, "bring every one of these men back safely."

Eight days passed and again I was on duty when they returned. The Fire Chief and the Mayor planned a hero’s welcome for the men at Civic Plaza when they returned. It was quite an emotional sight as the busses pulled up and the men piled out obviously exhausted from a week of nonstop work and service. They seemed surprised by the outpouring of support from the community. All they were doing was the job they were called to do. Again I felt supreme pride for these men and for the profession we are blessed with. I thanked God for answering my prayer, every one of the men returned safely with stories they would be able to tell their grandchildren.

I was called away from the ceremony on a dispatch to an accident on the Interstate. When I returned the Mayor was giving his speech. I have to admit I had an embarrassing moment then. I had recently been issued a new vehicle with a fancy remote locking device. Well, it had a button and I did not know what it was for. Of course I decided to try it out right there in the middle of the ceremony. Well, I found out it was an alarm activator and I had to get back in the vehicle to disable it. Okay so I am not the smartest guy on the block. Well I felt a little better about our Fire Department being able to help the rescue effort in some way. Life again seemed to return to some normality.

The war on terrorism had begun, and it seemed we were doing something to fight back. The Anthrax scare kept us on alert and at times it seemed we were being scared by our own shadows. Still, in my heart I wished I could do more. As the days passed, more and more stories kept coming out of New York about the heroism that was shown in the hearts of the rescue workers. It was being reported that approximately 5,000 people had died in the attack. The word was that over 25,000 people were evacuated by the firefighters safely before the collapse. The country was pulling together like never before. Patriotism was at an all time high. In all my life I have never seen so many US flags flying so proudly! And God Bless America signs; they were everywhere. The country had a new respect and love for the men and women of the military, fighting and shedding their blood for the freedoms we so often take for granted. Firemen, police, and EMS workers were being honored, praised, and appreciated for their devotion and compassion like never before. Churches were filled with people praying for the victims, their families and the nation. And what can you say about the incredible outpouring of support for the relief effort the people of this nation showed. We even had young children emptying their piggy banks out at the firehouse to send to New York. Lord, again I have to say, in Your Sovereign wisdom, I was beginning to see that much good was coming out of this terrible evil.

The next few weeks brought more stories and scenes from the war on terrorism, Anthrax, and the progress at “Ground Zero”. Our pastor at the church my family attends, Skip Heitzig, was called along with other pastors to go to New York to minister to people there suffering terribly from their losses. When he returned from his trips there, he was obviously moved with compassion and heartfelt concern for their emotional as well as spiritual welfare. I was again stirred within with a sense of inadequacy to help and contribute.

In the first week of October, about 3 weeks after the attacks, Pastor Skip announced at a Wednesday night service that the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association had opened a prayer center in the heart of Manhattan. They were there to minister to the needs of so many people impacted by the attacks. They had also asked Pastor Skip if he could put together a team of 10 people to go and assist with the relief effort. They were especially interested in getting firefighters, policemen, and chaplains to go. I was immediately interested but thought I should not get my hopes up to high. After service I filled out a ministry application and turned it in with a prayer, “Lord if it’s Your will for me to go, the door will open, and if not, I will be content to pray for the team.” A week later I received a call at home with the news I had been selected to go. So the “Journey to Ground Zero” began. We had a week to get things in order to go. The week was hectic, but the anticipation of going was exhilarating. Pastor Skip met with us a few days before we left to encourage us to trust the Lord for His wisdom and guidance in this adventure in ministry.

Sunday morning, October 21st came and we were off to New York City on Day 1 of our grand adventure. Our first stop was Houston Texas to switch planes. As we were boarding our flight I noticed 5 guys with FDNY caps boarding also. I asked them if they were firemen and 2 of them were firefighters from the Los Angeles area. As fate would have it I was seated next to one of them, a big burley guy named Van. He told me they were headed to New York to work at the Billy Graham Prayer Center. So began a friendship I believe will last a lifetime.

That evening we settled into our hotel in Manhattan, and then the team met for dinner. As we walked the streets around the hotel I was totally amazed at all the sights and sounds. The Big Apple was more than I ever expected. The first thought that came to me however was, "How could you raise a family in a place like this?"

The next morning, Day 2, we met at Harvest Christian Fellowship for a briefing from Pastor Finizio and assignments. I was teamed up with Mike and Van, the 2 firefighters from Los Angeles. We immediately hit it off and I was glad to be working with firefighters. Our assignment was simple. Minister to hurting firefighters. We were given a list of firehouses and their locations, and also a list of memorial services for firefighters that week. After the briefing we made a commitment to use our time in NY wisely. We were determined to visit every station and attend every memorial we could. We spent some time getting oriented to this incredible city and trying to find the best mode of transportation. We decided renting a car was our best option to get to some of the outlying firehouses and memorial services.

That evening we drove out to House 39 in the Bronx, 1 of 5 boroughs in New York City. We met a lively crew that seemed to enjoy our visit. We stayed a while then headed down to Lower Manhattan to the now famous "Ground Zero” site. An FDNY member, Dominic Cassase escorted us through the security checkpoints onto the “pile”. What I saw there was totally and completely humbling. I have seen a lot in 19 years as a firefighter and paramedic but nothing could prepare me for what I was about to see and experience. It is not very often that I have nothing to say, but at “Ground Zero” I was uncharacteristically speechless. My heart ached by what I saw. It really was not until I saw this site that I realized just how big this was. Up until that moment I really felt bad for those poor guys over "there” in NY. Now I realized this was an attack on our nation, on all of us. This was an attack on our way of life.

We spent several hours there talking with and encouraging the men working there. By this time the human bucket brigade had ceased and heavy equipment had taken over the monumental task of removing the tons of debris. FDNY members, spotters they were called, kept a vigilant eye on the debris removal. When they spotted a void or an article of clothing, anything that might indicate a brother or a victim, they would stop the equipment and go investigate. When a body was actually found, work would cease so the body could be removed with dignity and respect. Firefighters, Policemen, and construction workers would line up on each side of the route, in honor guard formation out of respect for the victim. It was an awesome and moving sight.

This was very dangerous work, fires burning in the “pit" were still over 1000 degrees, 5 weeks after the attack. Twisted steel beams and chunks of cement hung precariously everywhere. City officials were worried about the safety of the men working there. They temporarily reduced the work force by half. But the men were not deterred; these were their brothers, their sons and even grandsons. The fire service in NY is a very traditional calling; many sons aspire to follow in their father’s footsteps. Sadly, many fathers were coming daily to look for any sign of their sons remains. I was angry by what I saw, and wondered if justice would ever be served.

It was a very chilly night and of course being the unseasoned tourist I am, I came in shorts. I think I was the only person in New York City wearing shorts. Brother Dominic took me over to the Red Cross facility to get some sweatpants. I was very impressed by the setup they had. The Marriott Hotel was vacant after the attack and the Red Cross was occupying the first 4 floors. They were taking excellent care of the workers. They had rooms with massage therapists and chiropractors ready to assist the men. They had a TV room with lounge chairs and snacks for the men to rest. They had phones and computers so the men could keep in touch with family. And they had a room with clothes, socks, underwear and anything else you might need, like sweatpants for a not so smart tourist on a chilly night. They were completely setup to meet the men’s needs. We sat down and rested and ate with the men before leaving “Ground Zero”. Then we returned to our hotel for the night.

Day 3 we were up early and back at Harvest Church for the morning briefing. We were reminded that we were there to serve and to set our agendas aside. We set out to visit firehouses in Manhattan. Some of the firehouses were very open and others were very closed. There was a wide mix of emotions and different states of well being. At one firehouse a guy I met there was really beat down by all the visitors, he said there had been nonstop traffic in and out of the firehouse. He said what they really needed now was some peace and quiet. Yet at the same firehouse another firefighter was glad we came by and wanted to talk to someone. So we kept going from firehouse to firehouse just to be available for any of the men to talk. We walked around Manhattan all day and by the time we settled in back at the hotel we were totally exhausted. I went to sleep that night thinking of my wife and kids. I really had a deeper appreciation for them. For so many people life had suddenly and unexpectedly changed forever.

Day 4 came and we headed across the East River to a memorial on Flat bush in Brooklyn. The memorial was for a young man, Jimmy Coyle. He had only just completed his first year in the Department. He was at a Firehouse in Manhattan spending the night. He was off duty and was trying to get out of town to see a Yankees game in Arizona. When the call came in the next morning Jimmy jumped on the truck to go to the call with the crew. Jimmy and the rest of the crew never returned. He was fondly remembered by his peers as a fun loving, crazy guy who could really hold down his liquor. He was well liked and really loved his job as a firefighter. I only hoped he had made his peace with God. We were packed in the church like sardines, and there were literally thousands of firefighters standing outside paying their respect. The whole scene was overwhelming. I have never seen so many firemen from everywhere. St.Louis, Chicago, California, Japan, Germany, even Albuquerque, New Mexico. We met a lot of firefighters and were invited to go to a dinner for friends and family. We decided to pass and headed back to Manhattan.

We noticed a Firehouse a few blocks from the church and stopped by for a visit. The guys invited us in for coffee. They were very friendly and really made us feel welcome. They were getting ready to have lunch and invited us to stay. Really they insisted we stay. Steve Stora,"Loud”, a fireman was making chilidogs. I have to admit the Pace Picante' sauce commercial came to my mind. You remember it, the grubby cowboy asking the cook for chili sauce, being handed a jar with, "made in New York City" on the label. Remember what he said, "Made in New York City? Somebody get a rope!" I chuckled to myself and wondered what a chilidog from Brooklyn would taste like. Coming from New Mexico I guess I am a little spoiled when it comes to chili. I was pleasantly surprised. Steve, you did a great job on the chilidogs!

We were entertained with lively conversation. One fireman, Marty Charles, was particularly talkative. The rest of the guys informed us Marty was a middle child from a large family. Two of the men at this station were two of the guys on the now famous picture of the firefighters raising the flag. They were getting a lot of flak from the guys. I realized these guys were not so different from the guys back at my firehouse.

Lt. Tricario showed us a beautiful painting of the flag raising that had come from a lady in New Mexico. When I returned to NM I called the lady and told her that the painting had reached the right place. She was glad it made it. She had sent it off to New York hoping it would reach the right spot.

George Shea, "Spanky", a senior fireman at that house saw some photos of some fireman bear carvings I make back home. He and Steve were interested in purchasing one so we have since kept in touch, mostly via e-mail. We took some photos of the men then decided we better move on.

We were really glad we had stopped at FDNY House 255/157. Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge back into Manhattan I couldn’t help but think, "Lord I am so small. Thank you for allowing me to come here. I don’t understand all You are doing. But who can understand the creator of the universe?”

Later that evening we drove back for dinner at Firehouse 39 in the Bronx. The crew had invited us back for a meal. We all felt at home and were honored to spend some time with the guys. Firefighter Dominic Cassase made us some of the best eggplant parmesan I have ever had. We had a very memorable time there that evening. The Lt. had worked at ground zero all day and had come in to work the night shift. He was very tired but had so much to say. We just talked and talked, finally I looked at my watch and it was 12:30 AM. I told the guys we better get out of here and let these men get some rest. We drove back to Manhattan very tired but glad we had the opportunity to make some new friends.

Day 5 came and we were able to meet at Harvest Christian Church for the morning briefing. It was refreshing to go worship and listen to all the testimonies of what the Lord was doing. That morning we were off for Lower Manhattan to visit another firehouse. The guys there were great and we really enjoyed our time there.

Later that afternoon we were off to St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Mid Manhattan for another firefighter memorial. This man, Captain William Burke was a highly respected and highly decorated firefighter with many years on the job. He was nearing retirement and was remembered for his bravery and his many years as a lifeguard at a local State Park. I have to admit I was distracted for a while by the immense beauty of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. I had never seen anything like it. It was huge, and the stained glass was exquisite. I thought what a beautiful place, yet what kind of building can man make for God whose home is the heavens and the earth the footstool for His feet. Again the scene was captivating, thousands of firefighters paying their respects. The Mayor of New York City was there and gave a touching eulogy for Capt. Billy Burke. The emotional outpouring of support for a very hurting city captivated me.

I bumped into Steve Store, "Loud”, from the firehouse we had visited the day before. He had been playing the trumpet at the service. It was good to see him. We watched the superb Emerald Society bagpipe band pass by in the procession. They have 68 members, all FDNY firemen. Again the whole scene was profound. I can honestly say I have not had many profound experiences in my life but this trip to NY was turning out to be one of them. We got a bite to eat then headed back to the hotel for some rest and reflection.

That evening we attended service at Harvest Christian Fellowship. Some young people from California were there and performed an awesome drama depicting Christ’s broken heart for His creation. The worship and message from Pastor Finizio was very encouraging. We got back to the hotel late for some much needed rest.

Morning dawned on Day 6, and we were up early to attend another memorial at St.Patrick’s Cathedral. Again thousands and thousands of firefighters attended. I will never forget the scene. We settled in to St.Patrick’s for an outstanding and moving tribute to a very special young man, Christian Michael Otto Regenhard. He had only been with FDNY for 9 months and already was a well respected member of the Department. Mayor Giuliani again gave a moving accolade to this young man.

Christian’s mother gave a beautiful and passionate plea not to forget her son and all the men and woman who gave their lives in the attack. I think at that moment she could have run for President, and won, her speech was so stirring. With a tear in my eye, I quote from this, his parent’s memorial to their son, “At this time, we are unable to accept or comprehend the reality of our unrelenting grief. It is inconceivable to us that we, and this world, will be deprived of someone so young, so outstanding, so passionate, so intelligent, so capable, and so beautiful in body, mind and spirit. Christian is an intense light in a world that is often dark and cold. His life of creativity, intellect, passion and compassion has touched legions of people. He is an artist, writer, athlete, environmentalist, and humanitarian, treasured son, brother and friend, greatly beloved by all who know him. Christian, you are with us.” We were all deeply moved by this profound expression of grief.

Oh Lord I prayed, "Life is so fleeting, let me live my life without regrets, without bitterness, and without unforgiveness. Let me love unconditionally. Let me live each day as if it were my last day. Indeed, there is no promise of tomorrow.” We left St.Patrick’s with a renewed sense of appreciation and gratefulness for God, our families, and our careers as firemen.

That afternoon we took some timeout to pick up some things for our families back home. There were so many people everywhere; they were like sheep without a Sheppard. We met up with the rest of the California team and set out for our last visit to “Ground Zero". It was evening and getting dark and chilly. We spent several hours there talking with the workers and firemen. Everyone seemed so focused and self-aware of our vulnerability and liability to sudden change. The scene was so surreal, the floodlights shining on the rubble pile, heavy equipment moving about, smoke wafting up from the pile, damaged buildings all around. This was hallowed ground.

We wandered into the Red Cross to eat, get some rest, check our e-mail and reflect on our week. Mike, Van, and the California team were leaving at 4AM the next morning. We drove back to the hotel forever changed by our mutual experience at "Ground Zero”. We exchanged hugs and promised to keep in touch. As I rode the elevator up to my room, I thought about the tight relationship that had developed with these guys in just a few days spent together. Our mutual faith and profession had formed an easy and unforgettable bond.

Day 7 dawned and again I was up early, but this day would be spent going to Staten Island with some police officers and members of my own team from Albuquerque. I had not spent much time with my own team the whole week, so it was good to be among familiar faces. We would be attending a memorial service for a Port Authority Police Officer killed in the attack. The trip there was an adventure. I was able to use my Metro transportation card for the first time that week. We boarded the subway and headed for Battery Park Station. There we got on a ferry to cross over to Staten Island. A cold wind was blowing over Hudson Bay but the view of Manhattan, Ellis Island, and the Statue of Liberty was beautiful. We reached Staten Island and boarded a bus for the rest of the ride. All we lacked was a taxi to make it a complete NYC experience.

We got off the bus and walked a short distance to a small church for the service. This time it was not thousands of firefighters but thousands of police officers paying their respects. Again it was moving to see all the support for the families of the victims. Mayor Giuliani was again in attendance for the eulogy. I wondered, how many services he had attended since the attack. I was truly amazed at his commitment to the families of the attack victims. We were not able to get inside the church but listened outside. Several police officers and a FDNY member noticed I was a firefighter from Albuquerque and thanked me for coming. It really was a privilege for me to be there. After the service some police officers offered to drive us back to Manhattan. We took them up on it, although the ride down was quite an adventure.

As we crossed over the Verrazano Bridge into Brooklyn, I noticed the officer driving us glance over at Manhattan. His countenance quickly changed as he quietly said, “It just makes me sick to look over there and not see the twin towers.” I was saddened and realized it was going to take a generation for this city to heal and overcome this terrible blow. We pulled up to the hotel, thanked the officers for the ride, said our goodbyes and strangely, even on our short ride, we had developed an unusual kinship. I wondered if this would have been possible had the attack not occurred.

Back up in my room I plopped on the bed, exhausted, so many thoughts racing through my mind. I knew it would take weeks to synthesize all that had happened that week in NYC. Our team met that evening to regroup and finalize our plans for the trip back home the next day. What a week it had been, sleep was sweet that night.

Day 8 dawned and it was time to check out of Park Central. We met at Harvest Christian Fellowship where the airport shuttle picked us up an hour early. The driver forgot to set his clock back, it was daylight savings time. We arrived at Newark in New Jersey, tired and ready to go back home. I missed my wife and kids. I was anxious to return to familiar surroundings. Yet somehow I felt the work was not finished, there was more to do. The needs were so overwhelming. As I walked through the concourse to my gate I couldn’t help looking out the window across the Hudson River to the Tower less skyline of Manhattan. Then suddenly the thought occurred to me that just a few short weeks ago 4 other men were walking through this same concourse looking at their Twin targets.

What a week it had been. We boarded the plane and settled into our seats for the long ride home. As we cruised into Albuquerque I was comforted by the sight of the moonlit silhouette of the Sandia Mountains on the east side of the city.

As I reflected on the senseless evil of the attacks, I realized the only person I could change was myself. I had the power to choose right from wrong, and no one else was responsible for those choices. Lord, I prayed, “Thank you for loving your creation enough to give us that choice.” With unconscionable malice our enemy tried to intimidate us with savage acts of terrorism. But we will neither fear nor fail, no sacrifice will be too great, no cost too high. We will, by the grace of Almighty God, rise again.

So ends a Fireman’s Journey to Ground Zero.

EPILOGUE

Does the journey end here? For me, my journey continues. How do we respond as Americans to what has transpired in our nation? We have the freedom to make choices. Freedom to make changes. God loves His creation. For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, so that whosoever believes in Him will not perish but have everlasting life. John, 3:16. We can choose to surrender our lives to Him. We can be sure today we have eternal life! Or we can choose to reject the Son of God and fail to appropriate His love and protection. As for me and my house we will serve the Lord! How about you?

Written by: Mark Chavez (Albuquerque Fire Department Chaplin)

Click here to visit Mark's website!