Only a Bucket Will Do

"ONLY A BUCKET WILL DO"

         My sweet, and very helpful, husband offered to grill shish kabobs, skewers of steak and veggies, for a late lunch before he left for his shift at the nuclear plant. His appliance of choice was our small hibachi. This was a tiny grill which was wildly popular in the '70's and '80's, thereby making it one of our favorite "wish list" wedding gifts. (Back in the day, we did not have the luxury of registering for gifts, as a bride and groom do today.)

         We were scheduled to move within the week, so I was extra diligent regarding the cleaning of said grill in preparation for the move. So once it was totally cooled off, I carefully swept the ashes, wrapped them in newspaper, and foolishly stuffed them into my apartment trashcan. This was NOT smart!

         Pat, a wife of my husband's co-worker, had offered to teach me to cross stitch, which was such a rave in the '80's. So I gathered my canvas, needle and yarn, and headed across the courtyard to apartment 301.

         Since our husbands worked the three to eleven shift, we visited for a while and then did our needlework together until about 11:30 pm, which was just before Mac was due to come home. 

         Let me state upfront that during the two months we were living there, I had never seen anyone, coming or going, in the halls of our building. Not meaning to put the North and the South into stereotyped boxes, but I just chalked this fact up to the fact that in the South, people loved to hang out together. Because of this, I found it quite odd when I arrived on my hallway and noticed that the door across from mine was ajar. It was just an observation which slipped quickly into my sub conscience and remained there till needed.

         As I fumbled with my key in the lock, I was almost overwhelmed by a strong burning scent. But who would be cooking this late at night?

         Upon entrance into my kitchen, the reality of the scene threw me into shock. What I saw were flames roaring counter-high in MY kitchen trashcan! What to do? What to do? My brain rushed to and fro, searching for an answer - a quick answer - to this dangerous dilemma!

         I must have been experiencing true shock because my first instinct was to start blowing on the fire! But this was much, much bigger than any birthday cake, so I quickly ditched this effort.

         Then I turned and scanned the kitchen looking for a better solution. My mind said, "Surely a bucket would work. But I don't have a bucket!" 
          Playing "Monday morning quarterback" would have helped me solve the problem successfully. I'm still not sure why my brain didn't approve
of the strong, plastic, rectangle bin sitting quietly in my kitchen sink! (I had used this to transform my single sink into a double sink.) It would've
allowed me to toss the much needed water on the fire, but somehow that bin was for washing dishes. And what I needed was a bucket!

         My next thought was to run for help, so I headed out to the hallway and literally, pushed my way into the unlocked apartment across from mine, yelling for help.

         "Coincidentally," I learned, that the guy dating the girl who lived in that apartment, used to fight fires on submarines in the Navy! He came ... he saw ... and he ran ... down to his apartment for an extinguisher. (He lived in the same building and the same floor!!) He thereby saved the entire building and possibly many lives! (And I don't know who he was, even to this day!)

         I'd love to say that everything worked out just fine, but then my husband came home. When I explained it all to him, he kindly comforted me. Good thing too because I could not have handled any more stress that night!

         Although it might have seemed a bit dangerous to sleep with an open sliding door, the smoke called for drastic measures. So we dragged the bed covers into the living room and slept on the floor in front of the opened door for clearer breathing.

         Now one might think that the worst was over, but NO, because at 4 am, someone smelled smoke, and alerted the fire department. Well, let me say that when a fireman, in all of his protective regalia, enters your home, his presence more than fills the room! Two of the firemen used their axes to chop down my kitchen counter as they checked the wires for safety.

         But it did not end here either! Because we were in a very small town, the news of my burnt blundering barbecue made the headlines in the local newspaper. Yep! Now everyone knew about my foolish inexperience with fire!

         As I look back on that entire scenario now, I can see that, once again, God protected me, especially with my foolish, or lack of, common sense! I'm so grateful that He encompasses all of the wisdom in the world - enough to cover any, and all, of us if only we would ask Him.

Lesson Learned:

One CANNOT blow out a kitchen fire.

One CAN utilize a receptacle other than a bucket to distinguish a fire.

        

James 1:5 - "But if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all men generously and without reproach and it will be given to him."