I had a bit of an opening the other day. I was feeling really emotional, imagining the terror, suffering and hope that must be in the brave hearts of the CPT hostages, if, God willing, they are still alive. Because one of them is Quaker and two of them Canadian, I was able to identify with them instantly. They became "us", our own.
And somewhere in questioning myself about that, about my heightened grief over a few of the thousands of people suffering in Iraq every day, just because they have identifiers that make me feel I somehow know, and therefore love them, I thought about soldiers.
For all my talk of furthering the cause of love in the world, it struck me that I have not been very loving to soldiers. I live in fear that the military might get my "little" brother, who's 18, handsome, incredibly fit, with a testosterone streak a mile wide. Recruiters are salivating over him. In my anger and fear over my brother's possible not-too-distant fate as a pair of boots in the Eyes Wide Open exhibit, I've been channelling a lot of negative feelings towards every representation of the military I see. I shudder at the sight of servicemen in the airport. I gag at recruitment commercials and sneer at posters. I want to spit whenever I see some dignitary in a pristine suit gingerly patting dusty soldiers on the back and telling them what a good job they are doing. Aside from some vauge anger and sadness on behalf of all the members of the poverty draft, a few tears when 60 Minutes shows me a weeping family mourning their lost son, and a certain twinge when I see the faces of soldiers that should still be playing Dungeons and Dragons or cheerleading, I haven't had a lot of sympathy for the kids out there. There's been a lot of judgement in my heart. Somewhere deep inside it seems I want to believe that they are all a little bit twisted, or just plain stupid. "They must like it," I thought. "They must like being pawns of a capitalist power- and vengance-mad administration. They must like being used to help continue to tear apart the lives of people that have been strife-ravaged for so long." Aside from giving lip-service to "Support our Troops - Bring them Home" there has not been a lot of love in my heart for soldiers.
Suddenly, in some combination of thinking about the Christian Peacemakers and my brother, I was able to to open my heart to the humanity of each of the soldiers out there, and to long for their happiness, safety, and healing. I was convicted of my anger and hatred and found that God had no use for those emotions in me. My heart was made tender.
There are thousands of reasons a child might enlist in the military. When I think of some of my own wounds that brought me to my own terrible choices in the past, I recognize them in the faces of soldiers I see. A need to be needed. A need to be respected. A need to prove to myself that I was grown-up. A need to prove to others that I was grown-up. A terrible need for acceptance and belonging. A powerful desire to make my life matter somehow, anyhow.
I found a website called anysoldier.com. A lot of kids without families, or with terrible family situations, turn to the military as a way of gaining a family. That means a whole lot of kids out there with no loving support behind them. The harsh arms of the armed forces are the only comfort they've got, and the armed forces aren't very good about sending some TLC. I read stories of soldiers, 18, 19 years old, who watch the mail clerk pass them by every mail call. They see cards and packages carrying love and prayers and warmth from home cherished by their fellow soldiers, but go to bed empty handed. They are forced to see and do terrible things every day, and they are alone. Anysoldier.com takes requests from soldiers over in Iraq. The #1 request is for letters and prayers. #2 is for food (many of them are in mobile units far away from mess halls). They also ask for everything ranging from babywipes to shampoo to socks to bibles to videogames and CDs. One soldier said "I never knew it got this cold in the desert, we only get one pair of long underware and we never know when were going to get to wash it if you get my drift...."(sic)
One letter that really brought home the humanity of the soldiers out there was this, a letter from a soldier named Miguel, coincidentally the same name as my beloved brother:
Hello everyone;
I am sending this letter to as many of you as I possibly can to explain what I am doing and am involved with here in Afghanistan.
In the last month or so I have adopted some 12-16 kids that gather every day at the front gate of our base. They come to beg for the garbage that our soldiers leave behind, and I literlly mean "The Garbage". They empty the garbage cans and take the garbage to their houses. They use the garbage to rumage through for something eatable, to burn for cooking fuel and to burn for heat. You may think that this is unusual or once in a while, they come each and every day and they will fight amoung themselves for the garbage.
They come with no shoes ragedy clothes and filthy as can be. One day I found out that the cook threw away all the food that was left over from our breakfast every morning at our own military dinning facility. I went and ask him if he would give me the food so that I could give it to the children rather than throw it away. He not only said yes, he went the extra and porvided me with the plates, utencils drinks and anything I needed for the kids. I asked him the same thing the next day and he said yes. This has now been going on for 3-4 weeks. Every day I take our left over breakfast (still eatable for any one) and feed the children. In feeding them, I have taught them some English words. They have to wash their hands and face every morning with baby wipes that we provide for them. At first I would wash everyone's hands and faces, even feet, now I just hand them the wipes, mention the word "face, hands " and they repeat the words with me and clean themselves. The older ones (8-10 years old) help out and clean the little ones (11/2- 2). I have used the words "the little ones" so often that now they are "the little ones" even to the locals.
Some how things are coming up and are multiplying daily. Just 2 days ago, someone told me to go to a certain container and see what was in there. I found a container full of cases and cases of fortified cookies, clothing, cooking oil, and blankets. I have sence moved everything into a container that was provided to me by the Camp Comander. He has been absolutly wonderful and gracious with me. Anything I want and need for the children, I get from him.
For months while I attended my duties at the front gate, I would walk from my tent to the front gate along with my dog to take care of clearing the vehicles coming in to the compound. About 4 weeks ago when some friends of mine left, they left me their pick-up. It has been invaluable and a great blessing for all the activities. Without it I could not do what I am doing. Thank God for little favors. Unfortunately the clothing is for adults but the rest is adaquate for the children.
I would like to see if you are interested in adopting one of these children and while I am still here you can take a part in reaching out to the Hearts of these children. I know that we will not winn the Hearts of the adult population for so many reasons, but I feel that America still has a chance in the future generations of this country starting with this small "little ones" generation...
I would like to provide for everyone of them the following;
1.) a small childs backpack.
2.) a pair of shoes (preferably tennyshoes) the appropriate size.
3.) a tooth brush and a tube of tooth paste
4.) a bottle of shampoo (no tears preferably)
5.) a hair brush
6.) a set of appropriate clothing for the individual
7,) some kind of lunch pale or tupperware for them to carry home some extra food. There are days that even after feeding them all they want I still have to throw away food which I would rather not.
8.) a small childs thermos for drinks
This Saturday, I am bringing all the children into the camp and we are going to bath each one of them. A female soldier will assist me in bathing the little girls. I have purchased some new clothing and new shoes for all of them which we will provide for them. We have no underware so feel free to add some to the list. After the shower, we will cloth them and take them to the first aid station, the medical staff will check them out and attend to them. After that we will take them to our dinning facility, sit them down and feed them breadfast as much as they want. We have blankets, toys, beeny babies, candy, fruits, and other items that we want to give them before they go home looking like a million bucks. Their own family won't recognize them when they arrive.
He even specified "no tears" shampoo so it won't sting the little ones' eyes! It's something my Miguel would do.
I've felt very funny about this. It isn't sexy for a liberal 20-something to send care-packages to random soldiers. A friend who writes letters to marines says she cringes everytime she gets one back that says "We're glad you support the war" because she really, really doesn't. But she says she feels like the people come first. Last night I thumbed through motorcycle magazines and racks of beef-jerky, and for the first time in my life I tried to think like a soldier. It was a bizarre and strangely moving experience. This anonymous boy I was making up a present for became fleshed out and human in my eyes. I hoped he like peanut butter. I fussed between Sports Illustrated and Popular Mechanics. I wondered if cherry chapstick was too girly, and worried that he might hate sour candy. I picked out some paperback mystery novels about boxers and gangsters, and wondered if I was stereotyping this guy. A stranger and I in the stationary store struggled to find a holiday card that wasn't too religion specific or covered in fluffy animals and glitter. I wondered if a card that said "Peace on Earth" was laying it on a little thick.
And I wrote a little letter, saying in essence "I was thinking about the war, and how we can get you guys back safe and sound. At the moment all I can do to help you guys is do my best to increase the amount of love in the world. So here's some love and candy. I'm praying that you are happy and healthy, and that you can come home soon. I hope these things help keep you smiling until you do. Hope you don't mind getting mail from a tree-hugging Quaker like me."
Like most things I tend to find myself called to, it seems somehow homely and completely random. But I think it is important that these well-meaning kids who are not monsters, but doing their very best to be heros of some sort, know that those of us who oppose the war and decry the policies of our nation also have great love in our hearts for them, and that as individuals, and especially as individuals with that of God in them, they are precious to us. If you'd like to send a package to a soldier, you can find a recipient on the anysoldier.com lists, and send a "flat rate box" available at the post office, as heavy as you like, for just $7.70. The website also has important information about customs, packaging, military addresses and what you must not send.
And if you do send something, write to them with tenderness, without being patronizing or preachy. You don't have to disclose your politics, but if you are a Quaker, don't be afraid to tell them so.
Of The Best Stuff, but Cracked
10 comments:
Amanda,
Thanks for this wonderful post - and for your outreach to these soldiers.
Lest we think that the world of soldiers and the world of Quakers are widely separated, I know of at least two families in my own Meeting whose grown sons are in the military - one of them has been stationed in Iraq. Disagreeing with the choice they have made doesn't mean we have to stop loving them.
For that matter, how many Friends know that much of the first generation of Quakers was made up of ex-soldiers from Oliver Cromwell's New Model Army?
- - Rich Accetta-Evans
(Brooklyn Quaker
This IS a biggie. We do have a tradition of loving soldiers. In fact, before CO status was as common, many Quakers became medics. Thee just missed knowing the last WW II CO in our meeting, a wonderful fellow, Gene, who was a medic on Saipan during some of the worst fighting. He loved soldiers on both sides and risked his life for them.
Frankly, I am torn about what to do about this awful war, and thy witness is a dear and Quakerly response. Not being able to say no to a beloved Friend I started to attend the peace committee meetings again, and frankly I am struck by the partisan and aggressive approach to peace our Friends sometimes show. Recently I told a friend who wanted me to wear red "in support of the troops", that I do not support the troops. Not as soldiers. Like a person who has murdered, is not a murderer, but a person who has done this, none of us are what we do, there are no soldiers, but folks with that of God in them, in the clothes the government makes them wear, or they put on. But, in sending some love and comfort thee supports that child of God in a uniform who is for the moment not listening to that still small voice that commands us to peace.
We all will get to know many of these young people very well soon, those of us who sit on street corners with these young men and women, when America takes the name of soldier away from them, and calls them bums and worse. Thee and I will know their names, feed them, and love them when the government that sent them to be broken and do terrible things that will haunt them, forgets them. Did I ever introduce thee to Bobby, for whom I wrote the song, Bivouac of the Forgotten? He was, the last time I saw him, in good health, but like so many without homes in our neighborhoods, he has disappeared. Just before, he told me he was afraid of the way folks were being arrested for panhandling in New York. So, Bobby, who was awarded the silver star, for saving his comrades under fire, this small fellow who, as a sergeant, felt responsible for his wounded men, and carried them out of the line of fire, one at a time, now has disappeared as so many homeless vets in New York have disappeared under this neo cruel government's way of dealing with people in the way.
We must reach out to find God in the least likely places, the man or woman in the American soldier's clothes, person who was once a member of nazi movement living next to thee, the aggressive frightening people begging without homes... and not forget to reach out to God where his face is so familiar, in the little children begging for garbage.
We mustn't despair in the face of evil all around us, this friend in a soldier's uniform's story reminds us of the good in the worst places... and how wars are so often made up for the most part of good people led to bad things.
Seasons joy to thee ( who is always a Santa's helper... :) )
thy friend
lor
PS great thanks to Jeff for sending the email about our four friends encluding Friend Tom Fox. They are in all of our thoughts and prayers.
Amanda,
I have recently found your site through my mom who was one of your youth leaders back in Raleigh at Our Lady of Lourdes. While I myself am still a practicing Catholic, I respect and believe in many of the Quaker teachings. I, too, am opposed to war and have had conflicting feelings about soldiers in combat. My husband's cousin is a recently retired Marine who served in both Afghanistan and Iraq and I have a cousin stationed in Kuwait as a medic and another who recently joined the Navy.
Your post reminded me of my cousin who is in Kuwait especially. He is ten months older than I am. He is the first child of my father's younger sister. His parents divorced when he was young and his mother remarried. His step-father adopted him after his father was killed in a car accident, but as my aunt had 2 other children with her new husband, he became less and less interested in being a father to my cousin. His step-father became involved with drugs and treated my cousin very poorly. My aunt and her second husband divorced over this, but much damage was done to my cousin. He felt unwanted and unloved. He struggled with alcohol and drugs as a teenager and impregnated a girl at his school. She gave birth to his daughter who her parents forbade my cousin from seeing. After school, my cousin drifted from town to town, job to job, in upstate NY. We had all but lost contact with him when my aunt got a call that he was applying for a mortgage. She tracked him down and spoke to his wife who was just months away from delivering a child. His son was born a few months later, but unfortunately this new family did not ground my cousin. His son was taken by social services because he and his wife were not feeding or properly caring for the baby. His marriage disintegrated. His aunt agreed to take the baby so he would be with family and the little boy is thriving now. My cousin drifted for quite a while longer before meeting a no-nonsense woman who whipped him into shape. After marrying his current wife, my cousin made the decision to join the military. For him, the army gave him a way to make amends for the oppurtunities and good will he had squandered. It is a way for him to show his son what it means to make a better life for yourself. I have never been prouder of my cousin.
At the same time, I have been conflicted about the war and our reasons for being in these other countries. I have not supported the current administration in their "war on terror" as I believe that war IS terror (and I lost 2 family members in the WTC on 9/11). I do, however, believe that love and forgiveness are the only things that will heal what this war has wrought. I commend you for your honesty and also your compassion and sharing this story. We all have so much to learn about loving one another.
My cousin, who is in the National Guard, had a renewed sense of purpose once he enlisted.
I'm glad you're trying to see the other side now, trying to take judgement out of your heart.
And, it might interest you to know, this helped me get some judgement out of my heart as well. I always understood pacifists as a bunch of hoighty, idealistic, upperclassm people who were too stuck in their moral superiority to see the world as it really is.
As a woman engaged to a man who's had to literally fight for his life under the most dire and unusual circumstances (for civilians at least), I don't agree with pacifism because then I wouldn't be engaged to the wonderful man I believe God has sent to be my companion. I am glad he knows how to fight and defend himself. I am glad he can throw a punch and wield a knife.
While our ideals are different, at least we're getting to understand each other.
The boy's letter made me cry, Amanda. Every soldier needs all the love he can get, but this boy has so much that it will pour over him all his life. He's one of the called few.
And you are, too, Amanda.
BTW I accidentally bumped into Father Conrad Hoover the other day, formerly from Belmont Abbey. I thought you might know him.
I knew him at the Church of the Savior in D.C. in the 70's. In fact he attended a retreat that we conducted. Soon after he left in the direction of Belmont. He's now at St. Anne's in Charlotte.
Blessings to you and yours.
A very powerful post. Nothing more to say than thanks for sharing it.
Violence can be so much more complicated than the simple options of war and peace.
My step-brother, father to a 5 year old and husband to a hard-working OB-GYN resident is (was?) in the Marine Reserves. He was called to Iraq early summer last year, and lost his right forearm and hand (he was right-handed) on new year's day, 2005. He's currently continuing to pursue enginnering, despite developing carpel-tunnel in his remaining arm (had to have some surgical procedure the other week), and learning to cope with a small variety of prosthetic arms.
He's a good person, smart, intelligent, reasonable; he loves his family.
When I went to see the Eyes Wide Open exhibit at FGC Gathering this past summer, I thought of him and how we could have lost the rest of him - nevermind a forearm and hand, traumatic as that is.
Seeing soldiers evokes in me a tremendous amount of respect and sadness, even as I strive to live in the Power that takes away the occasion for war.
Thank you for this post.
Love and Light,
Claire
I too found this whole series—your post and all the comments—very moving. For all my occasional spiritual bravado, it's a tense time, and these words are healing.
What a great witness this is, in being faithful to a leading. Very human, very humane...
Blessings,
Liz, The Good Raised Up
Amanda,
I always deeply appreciate the thoughtfulness, compassion, and insight that goes into your posts, and this entry is no exception.
Up until I was nearly in my 20's, my life's course was pretty well set along the soldier's path. My father's family has a long tradition of military service stretching back through two world wars to the Civil War. When I was growing up, there was no question in my mind that I would continue that legacy. I participated in JROTC in high school for two years, and college ROTC later. Then I met the woman who would become my wife, and everything changed for me.
Now that I am a liberal, tree-hugging, nonprofit-working Quaker, I can reflect with gratitude on the different course my life took. But I never forget that there's an alternate universe, just a hair's breadth away, in which I am wearing desert camouflage and carrying a gun.
That knowledge makes me uncomfortable with perspectives on the military and the current conflict that only go as deep as the "Support our Troops" magnetic ribbon or "Attack Iraq? No!" sticker on one's bumper. So I am truly glad to read your nuanced and -- as Liz put it -- humane take on the issue.
I apologize for the length of this comment. Thank you for your post.
Post a Comment