Helpless Onlooker

    I haven't been able to get his screams out of my head. I haven't been able to get the image of his body sinking below the surface of the water out of my dreams. I haven't been able to rid my heart of the immense guilt I feel at not doing anything about it. Five days ago, I saw a young man drown. I was one of those pathetically "helpless onlookers" you hear about in the news: the ones where you question how they could have just watched as life slipped away. The ones I used to question and condemn. And now I'm one of them.
    I've replayed the scene over and over again. Actually, that is a lie. It replays all on its own. I've been trying desperately to forget it. But it won't let me. The rock pier was at least twenty feet above the water, supported by jagged boulders. The spray of the vicious waves reached even higher into the air, tickling the faces of passersby like my family and me. It was a beautiful day, sunny and mild with a salty breeze. There was laughter all around us. But with one haunting scream, the laughter ended.
    The Atlantic ocean off the coast of Rabat is known for its churning waves and tempestuous water. Though beautiful, it is dangerous, often deceptively so. At first, I thought the scream I heard was playful. One of jest. I'd never heard anything like it. The mouth from which it came was fully above water, and when two young men came running by, I thought it might have been some sort of strange joke. But their response to his scream was totally different. Their response was chillingly serious and panicked, and as they made their way down the rocks, I came to the full realization that the boy in the water was drowning.
    I was a lifeguard for three summers in high school. That was 20 years ago, and though I made several saves, I was never a deep water guard. I was never a lifeguard at an open body of water as violent as the Atlantic. I keep telling myself had the two other boys not already gone after him, I would have. I will never know for sure, and that haunts me as well. But they did go after him. They reached him quickly, his head still above water, and a third young man joined them in their rescue.
   Everyone on the pier was relieved. The waves were knocking them back and forth, but with three strong men, we were at peace with the rescue. I calmed my breathing and began to rehearse the CPR process in my head, knowing I would be able to help if needed... then everything changed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the waves attack and two heads go under the water. The boy with the light hair who had gone to save the other was now being pulled under. They were struggling below the surface, and the initial two rescuers frantically attempted to pull them up. But only one emerged.
   All of us could see the boy lowering deeper and deeper into the ocean. I yelled, "He's right there!" But he was already being ripped away by the angry arms of the Atlantic. The light haired boy tore his head from side to side and dove under the water over and over... all in vain. He was gone. I'd done nothing. I watched him die.
   I looked to my husband who was holding the hands of my two young children, and I could tell by the look on his face that he was thinking the same thing. The horror and disbelief was carved into his expression. Chaos erupted and tears stung my eyes. I couldn't keep them from falling. We stayed just in case, and both my husband and I were ready to perform CPR if they could only pull him up... but they never found him. We left as they continued to circle aimlessly in boats and kayaks, but the ocean had claimed him for her own, and my heart continues to pound with sadness. We answered our children's questions as best as we could, but what could we say to erase the trauma of all they'd seen.
   I don't know who he was. I don't know if anyone did. He was a nameless victim, but I will never forget him. I pray for the three boys who did everything they could to save his life. They were so brave, so selfless, and so determined to bring him safely to the rocky shore. They could not compete with the rabid waves or the monster of the churning water below. I couldn't have either. But that knowledge does little to temper my guilt and shame. That knowledge does not silence the screams or the image of death. I pray, with all of my heart, that time will.
 

Hope Is Not a Myth!

                How many times must it be said? How many times must people be “shocked,” “outraged,” “violated,” and “mistreated?” How many times must history repeat itself before human beings begin acting like… human- freaking- beings?

                I don’t understand. I truly don’t, and I’m not going to sit here and pretend like I know everything or pretend like I have an answer for every single scenario life throws our way, because I don’t… nobody does. But one thing I will say is sometimes the simplest solutions are the best solutions:

     DON’T ABUSE POWER!!!

     DON’T HARM OTHERS!!!

     BE NICE TO ONE ANOTHER!!!

                I’ve been told I’m too “idealistic.” I’ve been told I am “naïve” to the reality of the world. I’ve been told I have “no clue” what I’m talking about. But do you know what I say? I’d rather believe in love and honor and kindness than give up on it all together. I’d rather maintain hope in humanity than succumb to cynicism and negativity and say “screw it; just watch it burn!” I’d rather teach my children to be generous and caring than to instill fear and instruct them to distrust everyone they meet. I’d rather continue to search for solutions than say, “this is how it will always be.”

                Despite the beliefs of some, I don’t ignore reality. I live in a very real world every single day. I live in a developing country where multiple ISIS cells have been discovered and immobilized in the past few months and where Syrian and Cameroonian refugees haunt the streets looking for peace and solace. I’ve taught in schools where kids were being abused and mistreated by the people who were supposed to love them, and I’ve taught in another school where I was threatened on a daily basis. I’ve been brought to heartbreaking tears at the news that one of my most precious students was murdered and left on the side of the road. I’ve lost my beautiful mother to a disgusting disease, and I almost died during child birth.

                I get reality.

                But in those same places, and in those same schools, and in those desperate moments, I witnessed things far more powerful. In the school where my student was murdered, I witnessed 32 teenagers, of their own accord, form a prayer circle and speak words of hope and comfort when my mother was dying of cancer. Many of those same kids took to the streets to participate in a civil protest against the violence of gang life. In the school where fights and threats ran rampant, I felt the embrace of an impoverished young woman when she received her acceptance letter to college. Here in Fes, Morocco, I was blessed to see my students deliver food and clothes to people in need and to see them now prepare to help children stricken with terminal illness. When I lost my hero, I saw an entire community show up at her funeral to honor her and the joy she brought to so many lives. And when I was bleeding to death on the operating table, I felt her love and spirit surround me when I looked into the eyes of my baby girl.

                Because here’s the deal. Life can be ugly. It can be painful. It can be horrific. People can be cruel and unjust and just plain evil, but there’s more to it than that. There has to be. Beauty surrounds us everywhere we go. There is inspiration and joy in every child’s face. There is a new hope each and every morning we get to wake up. We just have to look for it. Believe in it. Choose to see it. So… yes, I am “idealistic.” I have an idea of what the world could and can be. My ideas may seem naïve to some, but that doesn’t bother me. I’ve seen too much and lived too much to deny the obvious reality of goodness in people and goodness in the world. Look around… really look, and I think you’ll see it too. So, I’ll say it again

If you are in a position of power, don’t abuse it.

Even if you can, don’t bring harm to others.

And for crying out loud, BE NICE!             

God bless!

The Perspective of Tears: A Poem

I felt a mother's tears today

Right here on my cheek

I felt a mother's tears today

Her baby small and weak

I saw her hold him to her chest

The disease within 

Forbidding his rest

I felt a mother's tears today

Mine mixing with hers

Along the way

I heard a child laugh today

His smile took away my breath

I heard a child laugh today

Unaware of his looming death

The little boy knew no defeat

And danced and played with each heart beat

I heard a child laugh today

His memory now mine for always 

You see…

I don't understand how it can be

In this day and age

A child won't see

His wife's lovely eyes

Soothe her child's cries

Experience love's joy

Grow into a man from a boy

I don't understand how all he'll ever know

is the pain of a needle just above his elbow

How she'll go to sleep without being awake

How their parents know nothing but deep heart ache

I don't understand why these four walls

trap them inside and make them feel small

I don't understand how selfish we can be

Living a life they'll never see

I don't understand how they have such hope

While we complain and do nothing but mope

I'm angry that many won't get to live

And I pray someday they will forgive

Those of us who have it all 

While ignoring those who stumble and fall 

While we ignorantly say, "What can we do?"

Let me tell you

This much is true

We can give with our hearts

Smile, laugh, do our part

We can play with the children

Show them light that is hidden

We can wipe away tears

Comfort those in fear

We can do more than we know

If we let true love show

We can and we will

Our purpose to fulfill

These children are in pain

Let's bring them joy again

I felt a mother's tears today

Her child healed,

His pain taken away

I felt a mother's tears today

Mine mixing with hers along the way.