JOHN WRITES:
I've been thinking a lot lately about my life. I'm not exactly sure why or even if it is a good or bad thing, and I'm not sure it says anything new about me as I have always questioned lots of things and noticed my and other people's surroundings, in part because of the curiosity I have always had and followed in my career as a journalist. Reporters and editors are taught to be curious, to ask questions and to be ever-so observant. I'm not sure how many times I have heard the old saw that "if you mother tells you something, check it out." Possibly, my recent somewhat obsessive thoughts could simply be linked subconsciously to a current and interesting TV show titled "Life in Pieces," a family comedy told through the separate stories and perspectives of different family members.
Whatever the reason or cause of my "thinking" of late, an important piece of my life here in Honduras is my health. As many know, I had a stroke shortly after we arrived here almost seven months ago. I would say I am 99 percent recovered, due to quick medical attention, the care from others such as my wife, and through the grace of God and His help in my improving habits of eating more fruits and vegetables, using no added salt and no "real" sugar, drinking more water and exercising every day to continue to shed excess weight. My blood pressure has dropped to a consistently lower and appropriate level, as has my blood sugar level and other vitals. While I still have a way to go to becoming in the best shape of my life (when I was 18-years-old), my health is much improved, even though I still have a few nagging concerns, such as a diabetic-related sore on a big toe, a general lack of energy (fatigue) and some hand-eye-brain coordination in typing, a real necessity for a writer.
Aging is another factor that all of us face in life. But I think what bothers me the most about my life of late concerning my health is not being thankful enough for how lucky I am. Like most people, I can have a tendency to complain. Why can't I get over this, or that? What's it going to take?
I've always considered myself a problem solver, but I am still learning to turn things over to God. Before we moved to Honduras, I would meet every Wednesday morning for coffee and a bagel with a handful of my Christian brothers. We used to joke that in that hour or so we were solving the world's problems. Civil politics and government discussions were a consistent theme. We didn't really solve anything, but we created a forum for letting out some of our frustrations, controlled by the boundaries of Christian men holding each other accountable for our faith.
I have yet to find a replacement forum in Honduras, thus, possibly, my thoughts about my life floating around in my head. But one thing I have come to realize is that I -- nor any man or group of men -- can solve all, possibly any, of the world's problems. That is God's territory.
As a journalist, I always considered myself a storyteller. Part of that could also be my Native heritage. So let me tell you a story about a new friend I have in Honduras who is a constant reminder that I must be more thankful.
My friend's name is Oscar. He is 80 years old. His caretaker is his pregnant 20-something-year-old granddaughter, who attends church with us at the church of Christ.
Oscar is not in good health. I visit him on Tuesdays and we share a small bottle or cans of tomato juice -- and talk-visit since he is lonely and somewhat depressed, Well, there isn't much talking. Oscar doesn't understand English and I don't understand much Spanish, just enough to get by. But we are sharing a friendship; his granddaughter, who speaks limited English, helps us communicate.
Oscar, a once-talented river-driftwood carver, and his granddaughter live in a two-room "basement area." A sheet is hung between the two bedrooms. There is one small bathroom in Oscar's side, again with a sheet being used for privacy, yet his granddaughter has very little privacy. They have very little clothing or food; they don't have a kitchen facility. One meal a day is brought in by the mission.
Oscar went to church with us last Sunday. He joined in the singing and was seemingly enjoying the worship time. But about halfway through services he had to get up and go for a short walk to help lower his spiking blood pressure. It seems he hadn't been taking his medication on a regular basis because of the high cost.
Oscar and his granddaughter live in our neighborhood, and we took Oscar to the clinic on Tuesday. The visit was free for him because of his age. After waiting more than two hours his name was finally called, along with several others to a "cattle-call" entry into a "pre-clinic" room where they were assessed for the necessity of seeing a doctor. He then saw a doctor who prescribed medication. He received a temporary supply for free, but must acquire the proper paperwork, which can only be supplied by a somewhat uncooperative son, to receive additional free medicine.
I do not exaggerate when I say the clinic was worse than most in America could ever imagine, even though I realize America likely has some awful free clinics, which also serve the poor.
The clinic in Santa Rosa had more than 100 people in the waiting room -- old, young and somewhere in between. Not many smiles, but lots of pained facial looks, coughs, colds and other unknown diseases. The noise was almost unbearable from crying and sobbing children. Concerned mothers and fathers held their children tight for comfort.
One infant laying on the floor was having his diaper changed by his older sister, or possibly his teenage mother. He soon was put on a breathing machine, despite fighting the procedure, in a small side room, labeled "pneumonia."
The clinic floors were filthy. Some sort of dark colored stain suddenly appeared in front of the "pre-clinic" exam room. A nurse emerged several minutes later and poured what appeared to be some sort of antiseptic on it. About 10 minutes later, someone finally showed up with a wet mop to sort of clean it up.
There were moments when my mind wandered, tired of viewing such total desperation, but found myself considering it was possible I was sitting in a large Petri dish of germs.
There I go again. Poor me. Pray for me that I will find the strength to be more thankful every day and to serve and be a friend to many others in this poor and problematic country/world. I realize I can't begin to solve the world's problems, and that my personal ones are minor, but let's all keep praying for God's deliverance to those who are suffering.
"Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." Galatians 6:2
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