The Heart of a Fire Family
Photo Credit: Hope Wears Boots
The Village in Turnouts
Being a firefighter’s wife is not for the faint of heart. You learn to hold down the fort while your husband is gone for two, sometimes three or four days at a time. Add three young kids and a cancer diagnosis to the mix—and it becomes a whole different kind of battle.
We live hours away from family, and there were moments I wondered how we would do it. But then something beautiful happened: the firefighter family became my family.
Wives I had never met before came into my life like angels. They helped organize my closet when I didn’t even know where to begin. They played with my kids, made meals, folded laundry, and even set up a meal train so we were fed, loved, and covered during an overwhelming season. Sometimes they just sat with me and reminded me I didn’t have to be alone.
But like every firefighter family knows, the job doesn’t stop—even when life turns upside down. My husband had to return to work. That’s when another wave of support came.
My co-op mom friends drove two hours, taking turns spending the night, caring for the kids, making breakfast, bathing little ones. One friend even brought her one-year old with her. These weren’t grand gestures, they were tender, practical acts of love that changed me.
And our families showed up too. One of my sister-in-laws, whose husband is also a firefighter, stayed for a week— helping tidy, feed the kids, and simply be present. She even brought my mother-in-law, who became a steady spiritual counselor to us during that season. From a distance, another sister-in-law was one of my greatest lifelines. She was the voice that kept telling me I was going to get through this, and somehow, she made me believe it. Anytime I got hard news from the doctors, she was my first call, and her words lifted me when I felt like I couldn’t stand on my own. My mom, sister, and grandmother also stepped in with their own kind of love—keeping the kids’ routines steady, strengthening their bonds, and pouring so much love into them. Together, they carried us through.
Neighbors I barely knew at the time became part of that net too. One invited my kids over for playdates, even just for an hour, which was such a gift. Another, welcomed them in for crafts and activities. Bit by bit, people showed up — and together, their kindness made all the difference.
Just like firefighters suit up in their turnouts to face flames, our people suited up in love, faith, and practical support. That’s the kind of village that carried us through.
Opening Your Hands and Heart
If you’re walking through something hard and you don't have family nearby, I encourage you: find a local church, find a community, even if it’s just one person. Let people show up for you. Sometime’s it not about having the perfect support system, it’s about opening your hands and heart to let people in.
Even when my husband was away at work, or out fighting wildfires— we made it work. Whether it was a niece helping with soccer practice or a friend holding my hand while I had chemo, or a neighbor opening their door for my kids—I was never truly alone.
Before Chemo, life had already felt hard. But now, I see it all through a different lens. One of gratitude and one of grace.