I have a great many things in my life that I am grateful for, but today I have learned that there is so much more in life that I have never even thought of. Sitting at lunch with some of my colleagues we were discussing life in various aspects. Everything from students, to shopping, to beauty secrets, then the conversation turned to more serious topics. After mentioning my wedding anniversary, (Happy 12th Billy Bear) we were talking about our varied weddings, our children, and on to raising our kids.
Man, have I had it easy.
I have a great man who loves me and takes the time to care about me. I have three healthy beautiful children who are polite and well behaved. I have never had it really hard, not at school, not in any situation. Even those things that are less than happy have been normal and time has healed the wounds. Dad's departure still stings of course, but I can talk about him without choking up now most of the time.
Why would this even come up?
Because the people that I work with now, unlike the people I have worked with in the past, are NOT American. In China there were people from all over the world, but most of the foreigners were American. In Japan half my colleagues were from America, the other half from Canada. We had a lot in common and it was easy to relate.
In this setting I am working with very few Americans. I work with people from Australia, Britain, Canada (ok, they really are everywhere), Iran, Iraq, New Zealand, Egypt, Lebanon, Jordan, Turkey, Slovakia, India and more. I am learning more about life in other countries every day.
Today I learned to be happy with my experiences. You see, today my friend from Iraq told me about her experience raising her son. The story of when she gave birth and the hospital was too busy assisting the soldiers to assist her, kicking her out of the hospital a few hours after the birth because they needed the bed. The story of struggling with ration coupons and bartering to get enough formula for the baby, and how nappys (diapers) were simply not available, her experiences very similar to those of her grandmother following World War II. This was followed by the story of her son being about 6 years old, playing with other children in the street as they often did, and having the lights go out because of the missiles flying over. How he was terrified watching the fires from the missile flying closer and how the door wouldn't open and by the time she was able to get to him how he had developed a tick that would last another 10 years, showing every time a loud siren or noise sounded. More stories of how, by the time she left Iraq for Germany as a refuge, her son would hide behind her every time he saw a police car for fear that they were coming for them. How people would disappear in the middle of the night, including her brother who was gone for 4 months. How the neighbors were arrested on the street and unable to return to their son who was locked in the house. The boy was lucky enough that another neighbor heard his cries the following day and was able to take him to his grandparents. How his mother wasn't able to return for 4 years, his father for 8.
Sitting across from her listening to her stories I had a complete realization that I have absolutely no frame of reference with which to digest these stories. It is beyond my conception, and thank goodness beyond my ability to even register. So far beyond everything in my experience that I don't have any way of "wrapping my brain around it". Sure, I have an imagination. I have done a lot of reading and a lot of movie watching, but that is nothing more than a two dimensional representation of the shadow of reality. Sitting talking to someone who has really lived through these experiences is unbelievable. Here it is several hours later and I am still in shock. And feeling so happy to have lived through the experiences that I have.
Man, have I had it easy.
I have a great man who loves me and takes the time to care about me. I have three healthy beautiful children who are polite and well behaved. I have never had it really hard, not at school, not in any situation. Even those things that are less than happy have been normal and time has healed the wounds. Dad's departure still stings of course, but I can talk about him without choking up now most of the time.
Why would this even come up?
Because the people that I work with now, unlike the people I have worked with in the past, are NOT American. In China there were people from all over the world, but most of the foreigners were American. In Japan half my colleagues were from America, the other half from Canada. We had a lot in common and it was easy to relate.
In this setting I am working with very few Americans. I work with people from Australia, Britain, Canada (ok, they really are everywhere), Iran, Iraq, New Zealand, Egypt, Lebanon, Jordan, Turkey, Slovakia, India and more. I am learning more about life in other countries every day.
Today I learned to be happy with my experiences. You see, today my friend from Iraq told me about her experience raising her son. The story of when she gave birth and the hospital was too busy assisting the soldiers to assist her, kicking her out of the hospital a few hours after the birth because they needed the bed. The story of struggling with ration coupons and bartering to get enough formula for the baby, and how nappys (diapers) were simply not available, her experiences very similar to those of her grandmother following World War II. This was followed by the story of her son being about 6 years old, playing with other children in the street as they often did, and having the lights go out because of the missiles flying over. How he was terrified watching the fires from the missile flying closer and how the door wouldn't open and by the time she was able to get to him how he had developed a tick that would last another 10 years, showing every time a loud siren or noise sounded. More stories of how, by the time she left Iraq for Germany as a refuge, her son would hide behind her every time he saw a police car for fear that they were coming for them. How people would disappear in the middle of the night, including her brother who was gone for 4 months. How the neighbors were arrested on the street and unable to return to their son who was locked in the house. The boy was lucky enough that another neighbor heard his cries the following day and was able to take him to his grandparents. How his mother wasn't able to return for 4 years, his father for 8.
Sitting across from her listening to her stories I had a complete realization that I have absolutely no frame of reference with which to digest these stories. It is beyond my conception, and thank goodness beyond my ability to even register. So far beyond everything in my experience that I don't have any way of "wrapping my brain around it". Sure, I have an imagination. I have done a lot of reading and a lot of movie watching, but that is nothing more than a two dimensional representation of the shadow of reality. Sitting talking to someone who has really lived through these experiences is unbelievable. Here it is several hours later and I am still in shock. And feeling so happy to have lived through the experiences that I have.
