I was at the local airport here in this northern Iraqi town, looking inside the helicopter that would serve as our medevac unit when one would be needed for transport. The AK-47 leaning against the pilot's seat had a name tag on it that read "Chupacabra". Of course. I felt perfectly safe.
It was the first time I had left he secure compound since my arrival a week earlier. It takes a small radio controlled convoy of armored Suburbans to depart the gates, seated with armed guards, and of course a reason to go, so it's not as if you call Discount taxi and there you are, off to the airport. This particular trip to the airport was for the purpose of making a plan to move an injured or seriously ill patient to a surgeon, and this is why I had my head near the Chupacabra, peering into a space nearly as complicated as the internal organs of the human body.
That's when the call came on a colleague's cell phone: the one to call my sister in North Carolina as soon as I can. I wasn't suprised to hear this message; I knew the call was because my mother had passed that day after years of dementia and more recently, a bad fall. The inevitable had been imminent.
And I wasn't surprised that a cell call would come in on a colleague's phone, knowing exactly who I was with, when, and where. It's part of why I can feel safe...but then, I also know the guys here who are doing the tracking. They have no agenda - just security. If, in the early part of my life I might have believed that "Jesus is watching"...well...the opportunity for symmetry here is mine to offer, but these guys are not in ecru robes, and do not come with halos of light. Ear pieces, maybe. So I won't pursue it.
My mom was the original multi tasker. She could do several things at once before it had a name, and she did this without the benefit of electronic gadgets or financial resources that would enable conveniences. She was born into Appalachian poverty to Hungarian coal mining parents. She had an internal drive that allowed her to never lose focus from her path, which was to build a better life for herself and her family. The six of her and dad's children, myself the sixth of these, were the extremely fortunate benefactors of this path. She mentored us to achieve by her everyday example.
The inherent lessons were these:
1. Do it yourself. No one will do it for you, and if they do, they won't do it the way you want it anyway.
2. Do not miss an opportunity. You never know if you'll have that opportunity again.
3. Share with others who have less than you do. Don't expect anything back.
4. Don't go into debt except for college or a house.
5. You need to go to church.
I carefully followed four out of five of these edicts, tripping up on the fifth one, but nevertheless spending a lot of time around remarkable individuals of faith and piety. Accordingly, I have a profound respect for religion, faith, and the power of infinite good, church walls notwithstanding. I've found religion to be not a lot unlike the alley ways of Central Phoenix just before large item pick up: there are things of immense value, placed right beside of absolute trash. Who are we to judge which is which put there by another human? Place it in the back of your truck if you want, carry it around for awhile, and see if it changes your life for the better.
I thank my mom for providing me with the perspective needed to find authenticity in the characters among us who may purvey faith. She did this by a certain osmosis: I spent my childhood observing the others in the fishbowl of the extended church family, and I have seen the faithful at their best. Now I know it when I see it. You just do. It takes some trial and error, but what do we have but opportunity for this?
That being said, my family has asked me to speak at my mother's memorial service on Nov 20. Momentarily speechless, this in itself a phenomenom, I recovered and agreed with a sense of honor at the request. It will take place in the church she helped charter in 1956. This is the same one I was raised in, and spent so many hours in that I could tell you secret places in every building only a child would know, or think secret. Her service will be in lieu of Sunday School that day. Oh, the many times I wanted to skip out on Sunday School...there will be happy children that day.
Meanwhile, the medevac plan works. At 0230 hr today a call came that a man was "having a really bad stomach ache". Indeed he was. And in fact, clinically, he was having acute appendicitis. There is not lab or CT scan here, but there's a basic history and physical that can cover for these missing applications. There is also no nurse here. As I was injecting meds into the IV bag, I was thinking of the ER nurses who had done this as a reflex action, as well as my mom who had told me to "never miss an opportunity"...I'm not, mom, really, I'm not.
It was the first time I had left he secure compound since my arrival a week earlier. It takes a small radio controlled convoy of armored Suburbans to depart the gates, seated with armed guards, and of course a reason to go, so it's not as if you call Discount taxi and there you are, off to the airport. This particular trip to the airport was for the purpose of making a plan to move an injured or seriously ill patient to a surgeon, and this is why I had my head near the Chupacabra, peering into a space nearly as complicated as the internal organs of the human body.
That's when the call came on a colleague's cell phone: the one to call my sister in North Carolina as soon as I can. I wasn't suprised to hear this message; I knew the call was because my mother had passed that day after years of dementia and more recently, a bad fall. The inevitable had been imminent.
And I wasn't surprised that a cell call would come in on a colleague's phone, knowing exactly who I was with, when, and where. It's part of why I can feel safe...but then, I also know the guys here who are doing the tracking. They have no agenda - just security. If, in the early part of my life I might have believed that "Jesus is watching"...well...the opportunity for symmetry here is mine to offer, but these guys are not in ecru robes, and do not come with halos of light. Ear pieces, maybe. So I won't pursue it.
My mom was the original multi tasker. She could do several things at once before it had a name, and she did this without the benefit of electronic gadgets or financial resources that would enable conveniences. She was born into Appalachian poverty to Hungarian coal mining parents. She had an internal drive that allowed her to never lose focus from her path, which was to build a better life for herself and her family. The six of her and dad's children, myself the sixth of these, were the extremely fortunate benefactors of this path. She mentored us to achieve by her everyday example.
The inherent lessons were these:
1. Do it yourself. No one will do it for you, and if they do, they won't do it the way you want it anyway.
2. Do not miss an opportunity. You never know if you'll have that opportunity again.
3. Share with others who have less than you do. Don't expect anything back.
4. Don't go into debt except for college or a house.
5. You need to go to church.
I carefully followed four out of five of these edicts, tripping up on the fifth one, but nevertheless spending a lot of time around remarkable individuals of faith and piety. Accordingly, I have a profound respect for religion, faith, and the power of infinite good, church walls notwithstanding. I've found religion to be not a lot unlike the alley ways of Central Phoenix just before large item pick up: there are things of immense value, placed right beside of absolute trash. Who are we to judge which is which put there by another human? Place it in the back of your truck if you want, carry it around for awhile, and see if it changes your life for the better.
I thank my mom for providing me with the perspective needed to find authenticity in the characters among us who may purvey faith. She did this by a certain osmosis: I spent my childhood observing the others in the fishbowl of the extended church family, and I have seen the faithful at their best. Now I know it when I see it. You just do. It takes some trial and error, but what do we have but opportunity for this?
That being said, my family has asked me to speak at my mother's memorial service on Nov 20. Momentarily speechless, this in itself a phenomenom, I recovered and agreed with a sense of honor at the request. It will take place in the church she helped charter in 1956. This is the same one I was raised in, and spent so many hours in that I could tell you secret places in every building only a child would know, or think secret. Her service will be in lieu of Sunday School that day. Oh, the many times I wanted to skip out on Sunday School...there will be happy children that day.
Meanwhile, the medevac plan works. At 0230 hr today a call came that a man was "having a really bad stomach ache". Indeed he was. And in fact, clinically, he was having acute appendicitis. There is not lab or CT scan here, but there's a basic history and physical that can cover for these missing applications. There is also no nurse here. As I was injecting meds into the IV bag, I was thinking of the ER nurses who had done this as a reflex action, as well as my mom who had told me to "never miss an opportunity"...I'm not, mom, really, I'm not.
Pam how I wiish I could be there on nov 20. With deep love and grace Joyce
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