Dispatchers Prayers
You Have Hearts Of Gold
You do a very important job and sometimes take a lot of abuse from the public.
You do so very much for such very little recognition.
You are the "Heartbeat and Lifeline"that holds the "FORCE" together.
We Thank You and We Respect You.
This is a collection of Dispatcher's Prayers .If you have a different version,please e-mail me and I will post it here.
From the voice that you take with you,
on each and every run
The one who never sees you
when you may reach for your gun.
I give you the honor,
and the respect that your job deserves.
With the hope of you believing,
I NEVER WANT YOU HURT!
I can't see the child struck down,
or see the Mother's tears,
And I can't see the blood and gore,
left from one too many beers.
But I can hear the emotion,
you try so hard to hide,
And I can hear the pain you feel,
of another child that died.
I talk to you and laugh and laugh
at your bad jokes and schemes,
I even sit and listen to your
retirement hopes and dreams.
I do not see you often,
That may be for the best,
If so I might get careless,
and lump you with the rest.
I can't stop the bullet,
I can't give you peace and make you rest,
to face another day.
I can't stop the fight before you're there,
can't wipe your sweating brow,
But I CAN hope and pray for you,
that you will be safe somehow.
I talk to frantic people,
try to get the facts you need,
so you will be ever prepared,
to face the horrible deed.
I send you out to fight the drunk,
I pray he has no gun,
Dear God, Please help me hear him well,
and see US through this run.
And when my day is over,
I pray before I sleep,
Dear God, Please keep my officers safe,
supply just what they need.
Help me always manage,
to be patient, kind and calm,
I know that there are many times,
they feel so all alone.
Help me do the best I can,
get them safely through the day,
and somehow let them know, Dear Lord,
YOU WILL lead our way.
Show them Lord, the voice they take,
everywhere they go,
wants to do the best they can,
and that I am not their foe.
Teach us Lord, that with your help,
We CAN all survive,
and do our jobs with grace and ease,
Together, with great pride.
May all of those who wear a uniform and who protect
us everyday, come home to the ones they
love, just like they left that day.
I praise everyone of us who work in the Emergency
Services field, whether they be Volunteer or Paid.
THANK YOU FOR DOING THE JOB THAT YOU DO!!!
Author Unknown,
submitted by Linda Olmstead (Gryeyes911)
Dispatcher's Prayer
Lord, They're in our hands tonight,
Yours and mine -
Those guys who keep the peace and fight the crime.
They're men, with wives and families,
and feelings, too.
They give themselves for our protection, those men in blue.
I know my part in this is crucial, too.
I must inform those men in blue,
When trouble strikes, and where.
And send them quickly, no time to spare.
I cannot see the scene from where I sit.
My eyes and ears scan the console, brightly lit.
I must wait in blind suspense
to hear each "ten-four,"
As they let me know they have
survived one time more.
I know a part of them that few others ever see -
Their eyes reflecting scenes depicting how cruel life can really be.
A battered child, a senseless wreck, or a murderer set free,
A brother-in-arms shot down, never more be.
I'll make the coffee, and keep it fresh and strong.
They'll stop by for a cup or two, but not for long.
Another call, a plea, or just a happenstance.
Duty will beckon, "Come, time to take another chance."
I'll answer the phone and questions too.
And dig out the stats and records they ask me to.
I'll type the reports and of course, joke with them some.
I'll even put off that reporter who dials in on "nine-one-one."
Let me, Lord, speak, calm and clear,
To those out there while I'm in here.
I'm their link, and they are mine
In this partnership of fighting crime.
It seems to me that we're all a team -
They, You, and me, I mean.
I'll do my best, and they will too.
But, still Lord, we need You to see us through.
Amen.
© Capt. Thomas D. Trent, Ford County Sheriff Office - Dodge City, KS
From those of us behind the mic
who never really see the sights
We give to you the honor
and respect you so deserve,
With hope of being comrads
and seen for what we're worth.
I'm not on the accident scene
to see the blood and gore,
I see the answers in your eyes
when you walk in the door.
I need not ask you questions,
the answers matter not.
All I can do is offer coffee,
yes, it's fresh and hot.
I'll talk with you and keep it light
and laugh at your bad jokes.
Don't think for a minute
that I don't really know
the battle raging in your mind
that humor covers . . . but your face belies.
I cannot stop the bullet
from the loaded gun
Nor light the darkened alley
through which you must run.
I cannot ward off the blows
you may suffer in a fight
Nor give you back the rest
you lose on sleepless nights.
I can make sure you have the facts
and face your call prepared.
I can make sure you're not alone
and get your backup there.
I can keep for you an efficient log
to make your report complete.
Most of all, I can pray for you
each night before I sleep.
Dear God . . . Please keep my guys safe
and lead them through the night.
Don't let them fall from snipers bullets
nor bleed from stabbing knives.
Save them from the drunk that drives
as they patrol our roads.
Return them safely to their wives
and let them always know . . .
those of us behind the mic
worry night and day.
They are the reason
that I kneel to pray.
Lesia Andera
Radio Dispatcher Prayer
Lord help us radio dispatchers.
We need your guiding hand.
We need your wisdom, too Lord,
To fill the demands of men.
We gather up the traffic
from all around the state.
We're yelled and screamed at unduly,
which only causes hate.
It's ten-four this and ten-four that.
We hear it all day long.
We have to write a thousand notes
and answer all the phones.
The patrolmen in their cars, Lord,
they growl when we answer late
when all they really wanted
was a measly twenty-eight.
We listen to the story of a mother
whose child has run away.
We hear of the missing husband
who drinks up all his pay.
Our job is so confusing
we know not where to start.
We pull our hair and grit our teeth
and tear the room apart.
It's enough to cause an ulcer, Lord.
Our nerves grow more tense.
It's just a thousand wonders
we've got a grain of sense.
So you bless us real good, Lord.
And hold us by the hand.
Help us under existing circumstances
to do the best we can.
Amen.
W. R. Borsch, JR
Telecommunicator's Prayer
Lord, in order to do my job better, please give me:
The patience of Job,
The wisdom of Solomon,
The hide of an elephant,
The knowledge of law,
The ability to see around corners,
through walls and read minds,
The ability to remember the location
of every street,road, apartment
and business in town and country,
And the strength to carry this load of perfection.
Author Unknown
The Voice In The Radio
When the officers listen to the radio
Do they hear the person who's talking?
Or do they merely hear the voice?
Do they hear the emotions we feel?
Do they hear when we're smiling at what we're being told?
Do they hear when we're frustrated
when we can't copy them?
Can they hear when we've become upset by a call?
Can they hear the tears welling in our eyes
when we've taken a distressing call?
Can they hear when we're anxious about their safety?
Can they hear how much we worry about them?
Most of all, do they hear the
real person behind that voice on the radio?
Author Jenni Campbell,1998
| Site Map of Life in the Slow Lane |
