On Fire Book Review

After seeing the author on the 700 Club, I had to have his book, On Fire. Surprisingly, it wasn't at Lifeway. I started on Wednesday night and finished Saturday, not reading Thursday or Friday night. It's in my top ten favorites and I read a lot. I made highlights on 111 of 272 pages.
Trust me, you don't want to be in a fire. Or do you? Fire is a source of heat, cooks our food, warms our homes, strengthens steel, forms glass, powers engines and clears deadwood. It removes old vegetation, fertilizes the land with life-giving nutrients, breaks open seeds and triggers new growth. Some seeds require fire to soften their outer shell after the seed falls to the earth, so it can take root and grow.
At 9, author John O'Leary lit a piece of cardboard on fire, walked over to a five-gallon can of gasoline and tilted it. He was burned on 100 percent of his body; 87 percent were third degree. Burned skin will never grow back without donor skin; donor skin must come from the recipient's body. The mortality rate for burn patients is calculated by taking the percentage of the body burned and adding the age of the patient.
Yet O'Leary has no regrets. He said it would destroy all the gifts galvanized because of what happened to him. He would have denied the world the chance to hear of his miracle of survival, the wonder of his life and the magnificent potential of theirs. His experiences shaped him, character drove him and faith guided him.
What if he had stayed in a fearful, self-focused mindset? Thankfully, he decided no more sleepwalking; no more accidental living.
His mother's face was an inflection point, a moment in time that changes everything that follows. In the hospital, she said, "Own your life. Fight for it yourself. Choose not to die. Take the hand of God." She forced him to pick up his fork to feed himself. His doctor told the janitor he was keeping him alive. By keeping the room clean to stop infection.
He tells of a story between two Roger Staubach employees fighting over commission. They could not work it out and Staubach donated the commission to charity. They should be responsible for succeeding together or for failing together. Their choice.
He says to erase it's not my fault from your vocabulary. Say, "It's my life and I'm responsible for it."
The O'Leary family lost their house and his siblings lost time with their parents during his five-month hospitalization. They were ages 18 months to 17. Neighbors opened their homes. His sisters were prescribed sleeping pills because of witnessing the event. One sister likely saved his scalp and face by running in and out to pour cups of water on him. Another spoke assurances to him. His older brother swung the flames and urged, "Wake up. Stay awake. Don't go to sleep." The community raised money, donated blood and offered prayers. It was all a gift. Staff, siblings, parents, celebrities, family, friends and strangers. A little boy fought. God had orchestrated it. Love had fueled it.
O'Leary lost his fingers, the ability to walk initially and was scarred from his neck to toes. He was sedated, mummified and strapped down. We pluck, smear foundation, wax, curl eyelashes and whiten teeth. Ads make us wonder if we keep up. We are not afraid of who we think we are, but who we think we're not. He tells the story of Phra Phuttha Maha Suwana Patimakon. Chip away the plaster, pull down the mask, peel off the bandages and allow the miracle of your life to shine brightly.
Know your story, what you've been through and what matters most to you. One person told him, "John, if you really knew me, you'd know that when I was seven, my father was murdered and my mother and I were both grateful."
O'Leary's dad now has Parkinson's and he had never missed day of school, college, law school or work. O'Leary spoke with his dad who said he was grateful it was not a more serious disease; he had time to reflect; on days he can't speak or walk he is grateful for the ones he can; and is thankful for handicapped parking spots. Instead of looking for what he is lacking, he looks for what he is blessed with. We know people who have everything and are grateful for nothing and those who have nothing and are grateful for everything.
What is a victim's favorite question? Why me? Victors see the past as a powerful teacher and view the future as bright, O'Leary said. They consider challenges a gift. They look at what they have, not what they lack. They escape from chains that bind and walls that trap them into a life that is on fire and a party that is raging. They unlock vitality, optimism and longevity.
In the famous nun study, 34 percent of those who were least cheerful in journaling were alive at 85. Ninety percent who were most cheerful were still alive at 85. A decade later, 54 percent of the most cheerful were alive at 94, compared to 11 percent of the least cheerful.
O'Leary says you can't have joy without gratitude. A man in jail listed 31 things he was thankful for--heat, air, library, warm bed, laundry service, chance for redemption, new friends, leaving behind old circumstances, three square meals daily, pillow, blanket and life.
O'Leary's doctor said perhaps he couldn't be a court reporter, but could be a lawyer or judge. He may not play baseball again, but he could manage a team. He may not be a carpenter, but could be a general contractor.
Glenn Cunningham, silver medalist in the 1936 Olympics, came to see him. Cunningham had been in a fire in which his brother died. He knew he wasn't going to live his life sitting down, so he got up. He died two weeks after visiting O'Leary at 78. Cunningham and Roy, his nurse, showed him the power of looking up. Whether we are too injured, scarred, filled with excuses because we have been trained to keep our eyes down making sure we don't trip, know that looking down is practical. But you must look ahead or you will miss the beauty of what is possible. Cunningham over four decades served, raised, fostered and encouraged more than 9,000 children at his ranch. The world celebrates status, the medal, the house, the beautiful face, but the medals deteriorate. The house ages. The face sags. The victories we clamor for often end up feeling hollow. But what Cunningham did after the fire burns long after he is gone. It's a ripple effect.
Therapists took O'Leary to the broom closet for his painful treatments out of respect for him and other patients. He had hernias, broken bones, burns, bandage changes, infected abscesses and cellulitis. His joints were stretched, blood was drawn from his toes and skin grafted from his head. He now says to intentionally stretch every area of your life.
When a couple stop pursuing one another, stop choosing to really love, stop choosing to grow together, stop forgiving, they begin to die. They donn't fall out of love. They stop growing in love. Death seldom occurs overnight. It's a slow fade. The changes can be subtle, but make no mistake; in choosing not to grow, we choose to die, O'Leary says.
O'Leary now gives presentations that educate, inspire, engage, motivate and transform audiences. Owning your own story can be hard, but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it is an appropriate Brene Brown quote. O'Leary threw up before speaking to four Girl Scouts on his first attempt to tell his story. Now he speaks at 120 events annually held by organizations in healthcare, sales, marketing, financial services, education, spirituality and safety. Southwest Airlines, LEGO and Enterprise Rent-A-Car are clients.
At one presentation 24 years after the incident, nurse Roy appeared as a surprise. He said, "John, I did my job. I mattered." Roy realized it that day. Roy was always saying, "You are going to walk!"
Jack Buck, voice of the St. Louis Cardinals and Hall of Fame announcer, was someone O'Leary idolized. He, too, visited, saying, "Kid, wake up, you are going to live." He promised John O'Leary Day at the ballpark. He scrubbed up, gowned up, walked into O'Leary's room and into his life as a stranger. Buck sent other athletes. A hockey player said he would score a goal for him. The team and the mascot brought pizza after one game.
A next door neighbor told a friend who told a friend who shared the initial burn news with her neighbor whose dad sat next to Buck one night. The impact of a single spark is profound. Buck sent a baseball from All-Star shortstop Ozzie Smith. "Kid, if you want a second baseball, you have to write a thank you note to the man who signed it first," wrote Buck. This made fingerless O'Leary write again. By the time the Cardinals played in the World Series that October, a little boy in St. Louis had received 60 baseballs and sent 60 notes.
Years later, O'Leary spoke three different times in different cities in a matter of days. People lined up to share their stories about someone who impacted them. Three times it was about Mr. Buck. In New York, Buck bought someone's lunch. In Missouri, it was a starving artist who was painting Buck's house. Buck invited him to create a painting of Cardinals Hall of Famers. They sold 250 for charity. It raised $500,000 and launched the guy's career. In Illinois, a man was to open a sales meeting and could not speak due to nerves. A man walked up and put his arm around him, read the first line on his notes and said, "OK, kid, I think you can take it from here." Buck again. Buck sought significance over success. Significance attracts success.
Buck gave O'Leary his Baseball Hall of Fame crystal baseball from 1987, the year of the burn, for graduation. One person can make a difference. O'Leary named his oldest son Jack after Buck.
O'Leary once was a hospital chaplain. He discovered that saying nothing during times of great emotion is often the best form of communication. Strolling in the park, sitting with a child on the beach and rocking on a porch are OK. We just want someone to be fully present.
O'Leary marries. The principal told O'Leary his boys were the only ones who pushed kids' wheelchairs and sat at lunch with those with special needs.
While fear suffocates, love liberates, O'Leary said. When he was discharged, his dad had a wheelbarrow with champagne and Life Savers. O'Leary thought his dad would kill him for what he had done. He was once in trouble for having grass stains covering his church clothes when he was told to change.
Pedro Arrupe said what you are in love with will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed, how you spend your weekends, what you read, what breaks your heart and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, it will decide everything. Or replace love with the word fear. When you let go of fear, your hands can finally grasp the love and joy that have been waiting all along.
Nothing worthy is easy. Get the kids tucked in, prayed up and in bed. Instead of I do, we say I have to. Say I want to. Love is not just reserved for our inner circle. It is intended to be the currency of our world.
What if you could walk into every interaction expecting a smile, new friend and true connection? What if every moment was a miracle? What if every interaction was seen not from the perspective of what might go wrong next time, but from one certain that the best is yet to come? Perhaps Mark Twain said it best: I have been through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened.
O'Leary also quotes Og Mandino, my father's favorite: I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness for it shows me the stars.
O'Leary stresses don't confuse getting out of bed with being fully awake. Every great spiritual teacher discusses the importance of staying awake, learning to live in the present moment and not being fixated on when things might get better in the future. The name Buddha means awakened or I am awake. Jesus often told his followers to wake up, to keep watch, to be alert, to be on the ready. My favorite verse is Mark 31:13. Take heed, be vigilant and pray. For you do not know when the time may be.
O'Leary adds don't be mired in regret or defeat.
Unbelievably, O'Leary's parents' house caught fire a second time. It was something in the toaster that lodged while they were outside. Being a contractor, which O'Leary had become, he could rebuild the same house burned two decades earlier. There is always a chance for redemption, to rebuild, to await a miracle, O'Leary said.
He said the most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire.
This book is an invitation to start living your life again. You can lead a radically inspired life.
Remember, “The tongue is like a fire, comprising all iniquity.” (James 3:6)