Learning From Burning

This Sunday marks the 16-year anniversary of my encounter with a brushfire. And when I say encounter, I mean I was significantly burned by one.

If you don’t know the story, allow me to briefly recount what happened.

It was the afternoon of April 29, 2002. I left the office to meet my son Ross at a property we were working on near Woolsey, Georgia. For six weeks we’d worked at clearing the land with a front-end loader.

We moved old fence lines, trees, brush and debris into six piles. Each pile reached six or seven feet high. We burned piles like this because when you bury debris it decomposes over time and causes sinkholes.

This type of work always invigorates me. I love stepping out of the corporate world, even for a little bit, and getting my hands dirty.

While en route to the property I called Ross and told him to pour diesel fuel on the piles. But Ross informed me we’d run out of diesel fuel so I asked him to pour gasoline on the piles.

“You want to use gasoline?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “We’ll let the gas soak into the wood and then light it when I get there.”

When I arrived, I pulled out a pack of matches and lit the first three piles. They caught fire and burned slowly.

I gave Ross a boost so he could pour the gas on the fourth pile. When he hopped down, I lit the match.

“Whvoom!”

Flames erupted and I felt an incredible wall of heat push me backwards.

I felt a strange sensation on my face and arms and instantly turned and dove face-first into the grass. I pushed my body forward in the grass with my feet, trying to rub off any flames that might have ignited my clothes. 

“Ross! Am I on fire?” I shouted. By now Ross was beside me.

“No, dad,” he said. “Just stay still. You’re okay. I’ve got to go get help.”

The paramedics met us at the intersection of Peeples Road and Highway 92.

They laid me on the ground face up, and told us we could wait for the ambulance or they could call a helicopter and Life Flight me to Grady Memorial Hospital. I knew Grady had a fantastic burn unit, so we decided to call the helicopter.

For the next week I went through the grueling process of hydrotherapy and healing. I was fortunate my burns were first and light second degree burns.

Thankfully, I made great progress and was able to leave after two weeks at Grady.

Looking back, I’m reminded of three simple lessons I carry with me now in my position at work and in my personal relationships.

First, our most difficult times in life can teach us profound things. We’ve all heard it said, but when the time comes, do we patiently try to mine the value out of the hard times? I’ve found that it takes a good amount of intentionality to learn from mistakes and difficult situations in life.

But I believe our hardest times in life can be gifts if we choose to dig in, show patience, and really explore how they help us grow. This might require frank conversations with trusted friends, and lengthy times of reflection, but it’s worth it if we can learn, grow, and move on.

Second, never be too busy for what’s most important. During my two weeks of rehabilitation I was able to have conversations with so many visitors. I remember thinking how nice it was to sit and talk about things that didn’t relate directly to work.

After the accident, I invited folks at work to stop by my office just to talk. It didn’t need to be work related. I believe we grow as individuals and as leaders when we take the time to really hear one another.

Finally, lead and live with gratitude. I’ve talked about thankfulness before on this blog, and that’s because I think it’s the secret sauce to life.

During my time at Grady, I was completely reliant upon the help and care of others. I can’t begin to tell you how thankful I was and still am for how well I was treated. So much care, and concern.

Sometimes it takes an accident or difficult time to remind us to live with a grateful heart. And I wish that wasn’t the case. As a leader, when I approach relationships and situations with gratitude, it allows me to think clearly and operate from a position of peace.

Why? Because I’m thankful: for the people involved, for the situation itself, for the outcome—good or bad.

I didn’t plan this accident. It’s not an anniversary I would have chosen for myself. But I live a fuller life because of it. And for that, I’m grateful.

Photo by Jacob Kiesow on Unsplash