It wasn't the sirens that woke me up. It was the flood lights. At first I assumed it was sunlight streaming in the window, but John had gotten up to look.
"There are fire trucks in front of the house." Being a non alarmist he said this as casually as if he had mentioned that our neighbors were on their morning walk with the dogs.
"Fire trucks???" I am an alarmist.
There were half a dozen vehicles, including at least one police car. People we know and care about were milling around, making decisions, and eventually setting up a ladder to the second floor of the building across the street. The one where no people live, but often stay up into the wee hours drinking. I live across from the local bar.
No one seemed in the least bit rushed. Which suggested that disaster was not on their minds. And yet fifteen people, mostly men, had arrived to the scene in order to prevent... something.
Once I felt reassured that matters were under control, just not mine, I went back to bed.
I was grateful.
Benjamin had not woken up which was a relief. Emergencies are not his forte, though it is possible his reaction would be good. Each Christmas the fire trucks come rolling through town tossing candy canes, with Santa ho hoing all the way.
What an incredible blessing it is to live where volunteers and staff show up to protect my community in the dark of night. Or the light of day for that matter. It reminds me of Someone else who keeps watch while I sleep.
"He who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep." Psalm 121
