I’ve had a horrible time trying to blog this week. Between a funeral and VBS, and normal life happenings, I just haven’t had much to say, but I didn’t want to leave the week without saying something. Then, today unfolded and I got my post.
Actually this started a couple of days ago when the carbon monoxide detector in our basement starting beeping. Now, these things sometimes go bad, and batteries wear out, so I replaced the batteries and forgot about it. Two days pass, and it starts beeping again. At some point yesterday Bella the Schoodle was shut in the basement for about an hour, and came out puking. Today, I buy a new detector and put it and an older unit from another part of the house in the basement. Sure enough, I’ve got two CO detectors beeping.
I don’t know if this has ever happened to you before, but it can be a big deal. If you search the internet – always the smart thing to do if you want to know just how close you are to permanent brain damage or death – you’ll find that the best thing to is call the fire department. In our town, the only way to do that is to call 911. So, here I am on the phone with a 911 dispatcher explaining how I’ve got two CO detectors going off, and I was told we needed to call the fire department.
You want to know the funny part? The fire department is across the street from our church, and is thus across the street from our house, and the senior pastor of our church has served as chaplain of the fire department since – well – since time began. One of the former pastors of this church was once standing on the roof of a burning house when one of the firemen said, “Reverend, you need to get down off that roof. It’s about to get real hot up there.” To which the preacher said, “Not as hot as you’re going to be if you don’t turn to Jesus!” Never missed an opportunity, I suppose.
Off goes the community wide fire alarm; the short blast to let everyone know that it isn’t a house fire. As we stand in the parking lot of the church, we see 4 of the volunteer firemen show up, go into the firehouse, and pull out in one of their red work trucks. We watch them leave the station, drive around the corner, and stop at our house. I asked, “Long drive?” They laughed.
Turns out we likely have a problem with our gas water heater.
I guess it’s just one of the quirks of being a pastor in a small town. You can stand in the parking lot of your church and watch the fire squad roll in and promptly drive across the street to the emergency at your home.
(Part of the View from the Parsonage series)