Hitting Home

I feel I'd be remiss if I didn't comment or elaborate on my feelings of the past two days. It all began when I checked the news Tuesday evening and saw this article heading, "Protesters climb U.S. Embassy walls in Cairo" 

I shared it on Facebook with the caption, "*sigh* Seriously, dudes?" and went to bed shaking my head over those events and reflecting on past ones. By bedtime, I knew that a similar incident was unfolding in Libya.

In the morning, I got the kids off to school and then sat down to check the news. Events had escalated further in Libya and they knew of one State Department officer that was dead. 

Oh crap. 

I went about my morning with this at the back of my mind as I puttered about doing this or that, not really accomplishing a whole lot. Go change laundry, check news, open drapes in the downstairs, check news. By lunchtime, it was confirmed that the Ambassador was one of the dead; the State Department officer death toll at four.

I sat down and felt dumbfounded. Predictably, I went to Facebook. (if you can't tell already, I go to Facebook a lot. sometimes it's my only tie to adult interaction) I felt like I should say something, but what? This is what I said,

"I've been muddling over exactly what to say, words escape me right now . . . "too close to home" is so double entendre . . Prayers for the families and for us in this part of the world."

Profound, huh? I usually write something way too long, archive it in my writing file so I can go to it later as a writing prompt and post the boiled down meaning. 

I watched as my feed filled up with other people sharing similarly heartfelt updates. A picture of a black mourning ribbon and State Department seal began popping up and people started sharing it or changing it to their profile pic.

I went to bed again. Had it been just 24 hours? I woke up, got the kids off to school and checked in. I saw blog post memorials written by other FS (foreign service) bloggers that had had the privilege of knowing and working with Ambassador Chris Stevens. I found a Facebook page that had just been created called, "The Sorry Project"; a project showing that the majority of the Libyan people oppose the crimes and violent actions committed against the US embassy. There are over 25 pictures of people holding signs that say, "We are sorry" and "Sorry people of America" etc. at peaceful, memorial rallies being held across Libya. Here is a whole gallery on Imgur of more people.

This picture brought on the tears. 

That's basically what I tell my children.

"I didn't want to assign a nationality to who these particular terrorists were. We have lived in the Middle East for most of my children's cognitive memory. They see Arabs differently than most people do. And that is one thing that makes me so grateful for the oppotunity we've been afforded in living overseas." 
                          ~ Me on 9/11/09 (Go here --> "In Remembrance" for the full story)

I feel fragmented in thought. With a sinking feeling in my stomach that I've felt before, I want it to go away. I want to try and forget what has happened, but I don't. These events are still unfolding and have affected embassies throughout the region. And to make matters even worse, most people don't care.

What can I do? I can dash about the house, wringing my hands, making sure the passports & other documents are in my "Go Bag", living from one ten minute segment to the next. 

Or, I do what I usually do in these situations and just try to have a normal day.

Being sincerely compassionate

I had the idea for this post a few months ago. But, like many other things in my life, it takes me this long to even sit down and think about it.

This year, I have been an Iraq widow. My husband, away earning dough in Baghdad, started this whole 'experience' mid-July 2009. Since families are not allowed (nor would I want) to go with, we moved to Rexburg, Idaho. Why? We already owned a house & my in-laws live there. Going from Cairo, Egypt to Rexburg is quite the culture shock. Or should I say, religion shock. I haven't lived around this many Mormons since I was at BYU. A frequent exclamation from my kids was, "Hey Mommy! She goes to our church, too!!" Yes, honey, as does 98% of this town. At least it's a familiar environment, compared to an almost 100% Muslim country.

Being a pseudo-single mom in a mostly Mormon community has not been easy. I just don't think they know what to do with me. Husbands don't want to get caught in the hallway alone around me and the wives, I don't know, maybe don't feel like we have anything in common. If communication could be accomplished, it usually started with,

"Yeah, you're the family that's lived all over the world."

"Uh, nice to meet you too. Seems you know all about me. What's your name?"

I understand that there is an 'exotic' taste to my life. But instead of asking other people, you could just talk to me.

I have tried to reach out; inviting people over for dinner, taking walks through the neighborhood and saying "Hi" to anyone that's out in their yard. Once winter hit, boy, everyone is holed up, including ourselves. But unless you were friends before the flakes started flying, you sure as heck weren't meeting anyone new!

Snow = need to shovel the driveway. We were gone during Thanksgiving for the first snowstorm and when we returned, my driveway was shoveled. Aww, how nice! Thing mostly melted the week before Christmas and then, Christmas Eve, we got our wish of a white Christmas. So, shoveling needed to happen again. I went to Walmart (bless that store), bought a shovel and began digging my way out. My neighbor pulled up & said,

"You know, Sister Penrod, myself & a couple other neighbors are keeping an eye on your driveway. You don't need to get out there and do that!"

Aww, how nice! I finished up the job; because I really don't mind. Seriously, after sweeping up sand for 4 years, I like me some snow! The next snowstorm, I had sick kids, but didn't worry about the drifts because they said I'd be taken care of. Four days passed, still not a shovel in sight. On the evening of the fifth day after the storm, I hear the motor of a snow blower in my driveway. Ok, thanks. But after pulling in and out of the garage twice a day for 5 days, there was some compacting of snow. You know, the grooves of solid ice that mark where you've driven over the snow. And, a snow blower, as fast as it may be, doesn't really do the full job. But hey, beggars can't be choosers, right?

I wanted to just be grateful for what I had. But it was really hard driving past the service givers houses that didn't have those annoying ice grooves and a shoveled walk. (they omitted my stairs & walkway. a snow blower 'doesn't do' stairs.) If you guys like having a shoveled walkway and don't like having twin lumps in the driveway, do you think I like it? I hated feeling like this! I would give myself a time out and push that little sassy, ungrateful monster back down and count my blessings.

Mid-January brought more snow. On top of the snow from previous dumpings, it was quite an impressive amount. And in the deep of winter here in the 'Burg, snow usually doesn't melt between storms. This time, a week and a half after snowfall, and still no sight of any do-gooder. I felt stupid sitting inside, like a princess being waited on. I got sick of looking at everyone else's cleared driveways. I got out my shovel and did it myself. Just as I was finishing up my piece d'resistance, my same neighbor is pulling into his (clean) driveway and gets out to scold me,

"Now, Sister Penrod, I said we were handling your snow this winter! Don't do this again!"

Huh? Now I'm just flabbergasted. I make a concession and hold back the tide of flaming comments that could have been fired upon this lame-o. This pattern continued through out the winter. Snow, Wait, no clean driveway, do it myself. Except I never heard from The Neighbor again.

The Conclusion:
Give service willingly without any thought of recompense. But don't make people on the receiving end feel like beggars. Give service as thoughtfully and completely as you would want it. And don't move to Rexburg. Too much snow.

For more service-oriented posts, ideas & projects, go to The Service Soapbox for more inspiration, reality or good times!