Christmas Break came quickly after the explosion and things had nowhere near settled in. I flew into Chicago and found myself staying in a strange house, my beloved dog Molly was gone as were almost all the possessions from my early life. It was the beginning of an arduous journey of rebuilding what was physically and emotionally lost and of personal growth. It was during this time that I began to truly understand the importance of what “home" means in the tangible and metaphorical sense. Moreover, I learned the true value of the communities we make our homes in, as our neighbors and friends rallied around us. 

Despite all the craziness taking place, I was encouraged by my father to take the test for the Chicago Fire Department– an opportunity that historically came once a decade. It was always on my periphery, but I never felt a strong calling to become a firefighter until I found myself on the other side of the job. I guess the timing of the test was just one of those few times in life when God winks at us.  Just two weeks after I lost my own home, I took the test to protect the homes of others.