True Treasures

“Don’t store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal.” Matthew 6:19. 

            When I was deployed to Iraq, I witnessed true poverty in so many of the civilian faces that passed through my day.  Some where patients and others family members.  For those of you that don’t know, I served 20 years as a medic in the Air Force and deployed to Iraq in 2005-2006.  I was there when Saddam Hussein was hung (to give you a timeline).  Anyway, back to my faces…poverty around the world is legit.  Most of us in America truly have no idea what real poverty looks like.  We struggle to make ends meet and still afford the things we love, but we don’t get living-in-a-tent-on-dirt-floors poor.  I witnessed Iraqi family after family come through our tent hospital and saw what it looks like. I will never forget the day I crossed path with one family.  He was a father of 7, a farmer, living in a tent with his family, trying to stay away from the war that was surrounding them on all sides.  He was the only “protection” his family knew, and he knew he was weightless in facing the demons knocking on the door.  As he and his family sat for dinner, a stray bullet from the war slipped through their megger tent and logged into the skull of his 5-year-old daughter.  I will never forget that night when he was brought into our ER and then ICU.  He was wearing a white tunic (at least “white” in the sense that its covered in dirt and hasn’t been washed in probably years), and it had red blotches dripping down the front and you just knew it was from holding her so close as they rushed for help.  He stood there watching us work on her, not understanding our English words, or modern medicine, or even knowing how to help.  Again, he was thrown into another place of being the protector and not knowing how to protect.  His eyes welled up with tears and his checks, stained with dirt, carried streaks from the tears he had already shed.  This man knew poverty, war, loss, and even fear.  He knew humility and grief in ways that most of us will never face. 

            His daughter made it through that night.  We had to put a stint in her head, a drain that pulls fluid from your brain, to allow her to live.  But her hospital visit was far from over and he stayed with her the entire time.  He was assigned a translator to allow ease of communication and understanding, but it also brought awareness.  He watched our news channels and heard about our murders, robberies, and crime rates.  He would ask why our country was at war.  I’m sure it was hard for him to understand that we were violent for things and not for human rights.  Let me say that again, we were violent with each other for THINGS not for HUMAN RIGHTS.  He witnessed Americans rob, steal, and kill for Xbox games, expensive shoes, and money.  How confusing it must be for him to witness this “better life” as he struggles to find food and his people fight for peace.  I often wonder how things turned out for his family and especially his daughter.  They were transferred to an Iraqi hospital once she was stabilized, which brought on a whole other list of concerns for a father.  I came home, never to know the results of his time with us. Once you witness so many things, it’s hard to come back to our society and feel good about buying needless things.  Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy making my house nice, and buying clothes, etc.  It just feels different.  It also builds the desire in me to do more!  We have so many people in THIS country that know what poverty is.  That live on the streets or live in homes that are filled with abuse and neglect.  People that think they are so worthless the only thing they are good for is paid slavery.  All of these things are wrong, and when I consider how to live my life, I know I must focus some part of me on helping those that are not able to help themselves.