When the firefighters come home

When 19-year-old B.C. wildfire fighter Devyn Gale died on the job in July 2023, it hit Ella Ringma, Sarah Phangura and Lucy Roseboom, all members of Terrace Christian Reformed Church (CRC), especially hard. Their kids are also wildfire fighters.

“It made it real for our kids too, because this girl was their age. She was them,” says Ringma. Just last month, WorkSafeBC confirmed that a proper dangerous tree assessment had not been completed on the burning cedar that killed Devyn. In 2023, eight wildfire fighters in B.C. and Alberta lost their lives while on deployment or returning home from one.

Despite the risks, Roseboom says she’s not really a worrier; three out of four of her adult children have worked for B.C. Wildfire Service (BCWS). She knows that “danger trees” can fall at random and accidents happen to even the most experienced firefighters. When she thinks about the danger, she tries to pray instead. “Especially last year, whenever I’d hear that the winds had come up on the fire, that’s when I would start praying for protection.”

Support at home

“I often think about how many families from our church and our community are parents of wildfire fighters,” says Phangura. “Personally, I find comfort in knowing that they’re praying and when our kids can show up to church, which is very sporadically, that people check-in. There’s a sense of support in knowing that other parents know what’s going on and that they’re praying, too.” At least eight young adults connected to Terrace CRC are working as wildfire fighters this summer.

“I think they do know how much people are praying for them,” agreed Roseboom, “but I don’t know if they would verbalize it.”

It’s difficult to get an interview with members of the BCWS because most don’t have media clearance. Last year, The Narwal interviewed 18 former and current wildfire service members and most of them asked for anonymity. They found that crew members have extremely high loyalty to the fire service and when they do return for consecutive seasons, it’s because of the strong family-like bonds they’ve built with other crew members. Many also spoke about the long hours, lack of sleep and mental health struggles.

“Wildland firefighting is a grind,” former wildland firefighter Harold Larson told The Narwhal. “You’re wearing yourself down physically, but also mentally because you’re trying to fight this giant opponent that doesn’t seem to stop.” To many of these firefighters, climate change is the problem and this is their chance to do something about it. They want to make a difference.

A fulfilling calling

Ringma, who is the Assistant Principal at Centennial Christian School, says she’s not surprised that Gen Z is seeking out meaningful employment even seasonally.

“This generation of kids won’t do something unless there’s a purpose for it and I think firefighting really feeds that for them. They feel like they’re contributing to something that’s important in a really practical way.”

Ringma, Phangura and Roseboom say their prayers during wildfire season go beyond just protection and safety. They also pray that their kids would experience God’s presence and see their work, in Frederich Buechner’s words, as the place where their “deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

Spiritual care gaps

I asked these three mothers of wildfire fighters if BCWS should consider offering spiritual support to their members, much like how hospitals or universities offer chaplains. They weren’t so sure if that would be practical, since crews are constantly on the move in remote locations, but they did agree that some form of spiritual care would be valuable.

When Christian Courier asked the BCWS if they would ever consider hiring chaplains, they had a different perspective. “We do not employ chaplains, and if our staff require spiritual support, they are able to seek that outside of work.” They encourage employees and their families to access 24/7 mental health support services.

This is where church communities need to fill the gaps. Ringma, Phangura and Roseboom kept chatting for at least half an hour after I’d turned off my voice recorder. It seemed like they needed to talk. They shared their disappointment when family celebrations are interrupted by fire calls. They commiserated over the hit-or-miss food and accommodation situations wildlands firefighters experience. They laughed about how little they knew about wildfire fighting before their first child signed up. But more than anything else, they talked about the strong sense of community their adult children experience.

“They build such a tight community with the people that they work with, especially when they’ve experienced a fire,” says Ringma. “They have an adrenaline high. When they come home, there’s a crash. All of a sudden, all that adrenaline is not needed. They’re not on. And it can be really hard for young firefighters to negotiate that.”

After the adrenaline

Evangelene Onderwater, my 19-year-old niece, is a volunteer firefighter in Houston B.C. She’s not a BCWS crew member but she was deployed to the Fort Nelson fire in May to offer structural firefighting support as the blaze neared the town. She says she knows what Ringma is talking about.

“A lot of people have a hard time in that transition [back home], but you definitely learn from it. I usually go out for a drive after a call or something, just so I can wind down and just be prepared to go home.”

Laura Onderwater, Evangelene’s mom, was also deployed to Fort Nelson. Laura has served as a volunteer firefighter for five years and has worked as a paramedic for three. Both Laura and Evangelene are members of the CRC in Houston, B.C.

On July 22, the same day an evacuation order was issued for Jasper, Alberta, Laura was deployed to a wildfire just outside of Barkerville B.C. – a remote National Heritage site that sees 60,000 visitors each year. The orders from her superiors were clear it was a “do or die” situation.

“It was an ‘anchor and hold.’ We were told that if the fire comes, you’re going to stay and put out the fire, pretty much come to hell or high water,” Laura says. In her mind, that was already a given.

Laura says going home after a wildfire call feels surreal. “It’s almost like we weren’t doing what we were just doing. And most people don’t understand what we actually do. It sounds all glamorous and adventurous, and at times it is, but it’s also boring at times where we’re sitting in the truck and we’re patrolling for hours and hours on end. There’s also a lot of hard work when you’re setting up all the sprinklers. Trying to convey an understanding of what we do is difficult.”

The real heroes

Laura was at the ambulance station while we chatted and her pager was on. I felt the pressure to ask my questions quickly and efficiently in case we were interrupted, a tension Laura is used to. While she has lots of experience as an emergency responder, she wanted to be very clear that when it comes to wildfire fighting, she plays a support role. “The wildland firefighters are the real heroes here,” she insisted.

Still, I asked her to give me a glimpse of the emotions a wildfire fighter might experience when they return home beyond disorientation and exhaustion.

“There’s a sense of accomplishment when you hear that the evacuation order has been rescinded and people can come back to their homes and they still have all their houses standing. And not the fact that you stopped the fire itself, but you definitely contributed to making people feel safe. That’s a cool thing.”

My younger brother has been a wildfire fighter with BCWS since 2016 (and yes, he declined an interview for this article too). But I did ask my mom what it’s been like supporting him, worrying about him, praying for him. She mentioned that when she prays for him, she prays for his crew too. “Your brother has taught me, it’s always about the whole team.” Her stories echoed those of the other BCWS moms I had talked to just two days earlier.

My mom pondered each of my questions carefully as we did the Sunday lunch dishes and seemed grateful for our conversation. At some point, I exclaimed, “Mom, I had no idea!” She shrugged and smiled, “Maybe nobody asked!” The wildfire fighters deserve every bit of media attention they get, and maybe their moms deserve some, too.