We ate a big breakfast at a local restaurant, like we did every Father’s Day. Then off to church. Pastor talked about how God is a father who never lets his children down. I wanted to be a father like that.
One of the presents my daughters gave me was a T-shirt emblazoned with the words “World’s Coolest Dad.” That was good enough for me.
After church I put the shirt on. Then we’d leave for a car show the next town over. That was also our tradition. Just like any other Father’s Day. That’s what made it so great.
Just as we headed out the front door my volunteer fire-department pager went off. Nuts, I thought. Maybe it’s just a brush fire and they won’t need me.
But the dispatcher’s voice crackled: “Attention, Pocahontas-Old Ripley firefighters! House fire on Simpson Street. Repeat. House fire on Simpson Street.”
“Gotta go,” I said. I left my family on the front porch, ran to my car, jumped behind the wheel and took off. Again the dispatcher’s voice: “There is a child inside. Repeat. A child is trapped inside the house.”
Read More: Father’s Day Rescue | Guideposts