A prayer for firefighters and first responders

Blessed are the hands that pull others from the flames,
scarred hands, calloused hands, trembling hands,
hands that grip hoses and axes,
hands that steady the world when it shakes.

Blessed is the courage that rises
stronger and higher than smoke —
the courage that steps into the chaos,
the courage that doesn’t flinch at the sound of breaking glass and metal,
that doesn’t stop even when the air burns and the ash falls.

Blessed is the heart that holds two truths at once:
the knowing that life is fragile,
and the stubborn faith that saving one life
is enough to hold up the universe.

We pray for the strength to carry the burden of this holy work.
For lungs that can breathe through the thickest soot.
For arms that will not falter,
even when the weight feels unbearable.

And we pray for their return.
For safe passage through the fire, the flood, the storm.

For nights where they can rest,
and mornings where they can hold their children
without the smell of smoke on their skin.

May they know that we see them,
that we hold them in the deepest parts of our hearts,
that their work is sacred,
like the flame that burns but does not consume.

Blessed are the ones who run toward the danger,
who wade into the waters,
who carve paths through the wreckage—
not because they are fearless,
but because they refuse to let fear have the final day.

Let them be guarded by something larger than themselves:

a voice in the wildness saying,
“You are not alone. You are not alone.”

And may the Holy One—by whatever name they call—
watch over them always,
and bring them back home.

Amen.