I am sitting in my Chapel here at my Forward Operating Base (FOB). I am listening to a guy play a cello. Yep, a soldier brought his cello. I am watching him drag his bow across the chords as he plays a song called “Majesty.” This cellist joined our praise band last week. His music puts the finishing touch on the worship. As he plays, my heart is warmed. It is so unusual to be here and to be practicing for worship for Sunday. Somehow it doesn’t seem right. Yet, it seems perfect.
My assistant and I suited up in full battle gear today, adding about 40 lbs. We drove over to the Entry Control Point (ECP). This is the main gate. There we walked around and talked with the soldiers who work that detail. They stand in the heat, some days in the 130’s, and guard the entrance. They do this in 13 hour shifts (one hour is a lap over). They do all this in full gear. So, my assistant and I decided to spend some of the day with them. It didn’t take long for me to be drenched in sweat and my back to hurt from the weight of my gear. We were only there for about an hour and a half. We got back in the vehicle and drove to the office. The soldiers at the ECP stayed behind to protect our gate.
Each soldier here has an enormous burden of work. It is all different. There is no way to describe it all. But, they work hard. Each soldier here has a context. So in addition to the work, they have a story. I haven’t heard them all at this point. But, I have heard a lot of them.
One soldier came to me the 2nd day of our journey here. We were in Kyrgyzstan. Remember, this was the 2nd day. He said, “I have three kids. I have been married for 15 years. My wife just told me on the phone that she is leaving me.” This soldier continued with me here to Afghanistan. He works every day. I see him often. I speak little. I pat him on the back. I just want him to know that I really care.
Another soldier sits by himself at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He doesn’t talk to anyone. He is a bit over weight. He is talked about by others. Sitting at lunch one day, I looked at him. I began to tear up. “I wonder what it feels like to be him today”; I thought. He is older than most soldiers his rank. What hurts does he carry around that no one knows. I walked by. I put my hand on his shoulder. I made a light-hearted comment, laughed, and smiled. The next day, my assistant and I sat with him for a meal. I talked a lot (easy to believe). I had to work the conversation hard. He wasn’t used to conversing. He has never had a lot of chances to practice with people speaking with him. He managed to answer politely. But, he never engaged fully. I guess the last time he tried, he might have been shot down, possibly humiliated. Kick a dog enough, he will quit barking.
These are a couple of the many stories. All of them aren’t sad. Some are great and happy. But everyone struggles in some way.
My greatest struggle is keeping my eye on the ball. Cutting out time to sit with my DADDY is difficult. I have to be creative. Recently, I walked up by the south wall. There, I could see Afghan farmers working the fields. I mean, really working them, by hand. It is a beautiful crop they have. I don’t even know what it is. It isn’t opium (for the wise guys out there). I looked over them and prayed. Huge mountains form their backdrop. It was some sweet time. It wasn’t long-lived.
It’s a great job. It poses many challenges. But, it is a great job. Every day there is a chance to make a difference. It might be by walking around with soldiers at the ECP. It might be by a hand on the shoulder of a lonely soldier. It might be listening to a COL vent. Every day is a day to be thankful and to offer what I have, little as it may be.
My assistant and I suited up in full battle gear today, adding about 40 lbs. We drove over to the Entry Control Point (ECP). This is the main gate. There we walked around and talked with the soldiers who work that detail. They stand in the heat, some days in the 130’s, and guard the entrance. They do this in 13 hour shifts (one hour is a lap over). They do all this in full gear. So, my assistant and I decided to spend some of the day with them. It didn’t take long for me to be drenched in sweat and my back to hurt from the weight of my gear. We were only there for about an hour and a half. We got back in the vehicle and drove to the office. The soldiers at the ECP stayed behind to protect our gate.
Each soldier here has an enormous burden of work. It is all different. There is no way to describe it all. But, they work hard. Each soldier here has a context. So in addition to the work, they have a story. I haven’t heard them all at this point. But, I have heard a lot of them.
One soldier came to me the 2nd day of our journey here. We were in Kyrgyzstan. Remember, this was the 2nd day. He said, “I have three kids. I have been married for 15 years. My wife just told me on the phone that she is leaving me.” This soldier continued with me here to Afghanistan. He works every day. I see him often. I speak little. I pat him on the back. I just want him to know that I really care.
Another soldier sits by himself at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He doesn’t talk to anyone. He is a bit over weight. He is talked about by others. Sitting at lunch one day, I looked at him. I began to tear up. “I wonder what it feels like to be him today”; I thought. He is older than most soldiers his rank. What hurts does he carry around that no one knows. I walked by. I put my hand on his shoulder. I made a light-hearted comment, laughed, and smiled. The next day, my assistant and I sat with him for a meal. I talked a lot (easy to believe). I had to work the conversation hard. He wasn’t used to conversing. He has never had a lot of chances to practice with people speaking with him. He managed to answer politely. But, he never engaged fully. I guess the last time he tried, he might have been shot down, possibly humiliated. Kick a dog enough, he will quit barking.
These are a couple of the many stories. All of them aren’t sad. Some are great and happy. But everyone struggles in some way.
My greatest struggle is keeping my eye on the ball. Cutting out time to sit with my DADDY is difficult. I have to be creative. Recently, I walked up by the south wall. There, I could see Afghan farmers working the fields. I mean, really working them, by hand. It is a beautiful crop they have. I don’t even know what it is. It isn’t opium (for the wise guys out there). I looked over them and prayed. Huge mountains form their backdrop. It was some sweet time. It wasn’t long-lived.
It’s a great job. It poses many challenges. But, it is a great job. Every day there is a chance to make a difference. It might be by walking around with soldiers at the ECP. It might be by a hand on the shoulder of a lonely soldier. It might be listening to a COL vent. Every day is a day to be thankful and to offer what I have, little as it may be.
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