We are born. We die. And in between, we have that window of life. We touch others lives, and we are touched. Life gives us experience after experience that we process together—together with friends.This week I lost a friend. Lieutenant Santos Escobar of the La Ceiba Fire Department, with whom I served as a volunteer for eight years, died, leaving behind his wife, Yadira.
Santos was my friend. He was jolly and was always up for a great belly laugh. We fought fires together, played volleyball together, and studied God’s word together.
Santos was my friend. He was jolly and was always up for a great belly laugh. We fought fires together, played volleyball together, and studied God’s word together.
Allow me to share a memory.
On a hot, sunny day, I was the assigned driver for unit #521, the tanker shown in the photo. On any fire department run, the officer in charge of the mission always rode in the right seat to give orders to the crew. We were returning to the station after a call.
As we neared the La Ceiba shipping dock, where boats from the Bay Islands came and went daily, I saw a middle-aged man standing near the right curb. To my shock, as the heavy tanker, with a full load of water got near the man, he lunged in front of us, throwing himself toward the front wheels! I slammed on the air brakes and we ground to a halt. Santos jumped from the right seat to check the suicidal man’s condition. Thankfully, I had gotten the unit stopped in time and the man was OK, but obviously very intoxicated.
Santos patiently and kindly led the man to the sidewalk, gently sat him down there, then hopped back in the truck. I threw the shift lever into first gear and we started rolling. Again, the man jumped from the curb and threw himself in front of the huge, dual rear wheels. I freaked, slamming on the brakes again.
Santos shook his head in disbelief and, once again, climbed down out of the truck to lead the man to the safety. This time Santos scolded the man and told him to stay put. Santos’ trying to talk mean to this poor man was somewhat comical since we all knew this seasoned firefighter to be gentle and unusually kind to everyone. Nevertheless, he shook his finger and told him not to move.
Wouldn’t you know it, as soon as the wheels began to turn again, it was the same scene all over. This guy just wouldn’t give up.
But my friend and supervising officer, Santos had a plan. As he pulled the man to the curb a third time, and while still physically holding him down, Santos waved for me to put the unit in motion.
Wouldn’t you know it, as soon as the wheels began to turn again, it was the same scene all over. This guy just wouldn’t give up.
But my friend and supervising officer, Santos had a plan. As he pulled the man to the curb a third time, and while still physically holding him down, Santos waved for me to put the unit in motion.
“Go, go, go,” he yelled, motioning with his hand.
I started forward, keeping a close eye on the rearview mirrors. As I reached about 8 mph, and the unit was several feet away from the intoxicated man, Santos let go of him and came running fast, hopping onto the rolling tanker. It was a risky move, but it worked. It was unfortunate that the man was drunk--but fortunately, because he was drunk, he couldn’t get back up in time to get himself under the wheels again.
I started forward, keeping a close eye on the rearview mirrors. As I reached about 8 mph, and the unit was several feet away from the intoxicated man, Santos let go of him and came running fast, hopping onto the rolling tanker. It was a risky move, but it worked. It was unfortunate that the man was drunk--but fortunately, because he was drunk, he couldn’t get back up in time to get himself under the wheels again.
The suicidal man lived on, and Santos was back in the “shotgun” seat. It was a risk that my friend Santos was willing to take to save a desperate man from taking his own life.
Now the life that saved that life, is gone. But I remember when Santos prayed for Christ to come into his heart. My good friend and missionary colleague, Larry Burke, discipled Santos and his wife, Yadira.
Our missionary assignments have taken us away from Honduras, and I have not seen Santos for many years. I don’t know where Santos was spiritually when the end came, but I do know…..I will never forget my friend, Santos Escobar. Rest in peace, buddy.
Thanks for sharing this wonderful story Tom. I will always remember Santos and Yadira. He will be missed among the bomberos and if I should ever return, it will seem empty without him there.
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ReplyDeleteWow. You took me down memory lane once again with your comments about our friend Santos. He was a man who always laughed. He loved his work. His family and his friends. I remember one time when I went with him to go get this camp ready for some refugees. Santos hooked up the hoses and placed me in the room. I was doing well hosing down the walls, but then I found myself flown across the room. Why? SANTOS He was out at the truck and had turned up the pressure which means water came in through my hose with enough pressure to fly me around the room. THERE WAS SANTOS ... OUT BY HIS TRUCK LAUGHING SO HARD. I remember Santos laughing at me very often. He was a good friend who lived o nthe other side of our wall, a big heart and full of life. I hope to see my friend Santos in heavn one day. Perhaps I might finally beat him in volleyball. I can still hear him laugh.
ReplyDeleteYou are blessed to have memories like that. I volunteered with the Arizona Highway Patrol Reserve and have a story that some what parallels yours in a way. My first day in a patrol car alone there was a report of an accident on I-17 and I was the nearest vehicle. I was the first to arrive and found a Green Chevy Nova 4 door head first into a bridge abutment. It was exactly like the one I owned. I went to the vehicle and checked the driver. He was dead. I returned to my car and radioed this fact to the dispatcher. Even to this day I can vividly remember what that Nova looked like crumpled into the concrete. Sadly the driver had accomplished what he wanted to do, end his life. As I read your story, I couldn't help but think had Santos only been there. Thank Tom for sharing.
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