I´ve just returned from my annual pilgrimage to South Georgia to work as an interpreter for the South Georgia Farmworker Health Project. I spent two weeks helping PA students with Emory University to communicate with patients who spoke only Spanish (or sometimes, a Native American language, and Spanish second). Every year, this time serves to remind me a couple of things, and this year was no different.
The People
The PA students and their support team of doctors and instructors was exceptional, as always. It's always a privilege to watch them adapt to the new surroundings of the fields, pick up their chairs and equipment, and just serve people who need to be cared for.
Every year I'm struck by the humility and drive of the folks who are picking vegetables for our dinner tables. This year I met several interesting folks; some were in good shape physically and mentally, and others were needy in one or the other of those areas. I met a man who found out for the first time that he has a heart murmur. After years of drinking heavily, he has cut back recently, and was genuinely surprised to know he had a potentially dangerous problem with his heart. He was fairly young and works extremely hard, like all the workers we see, and seemed to understand the risk. Another had an irregular heartbeat; also just discovered the problem for the first time. When shown the "strange" heartbeats on the EKG, he quickly scanned the document, read it like a pro, and identified the two "strange" heartbeats that he had. The provider quickly reminded him of the seriousness of the problem (because of two anomalies) and drove the point home that he needed to see a clinic doctor asap. Field work is odd in that there are severe limitations on what can be done when a real problem is uncovered. We have to count on patients to do their own follow up with other providers, or take them to the Emergency Room. Neither seems to be the best thing to do, but you do what you can.
A 61 year old man found out for the first time that he suffered from severe diabetes, and that he already had kidney damage. I always remember how folks look when they find out they are "sick", but sometimes I see them again next year, and see how they "aguantar", or "deal with it". And they do.
This year I met a former army Sargent, retired after 22 years. At 49, he admitted that nothing he did in the military prepared him for the difficulty of the work he had to do here. He wasn't sure he would renew his visa to return in the September picking season, but he has a wife and children back home and probably will have no other choice. Then there was the army officer, the former chief of security for the State Department of a Central American country. Years ago, after a political change in his country, he was forced to flee to the US as a refugee. After a month of starving on the West Coast, he came South to work in the fields picking vegetables. He now has his own successful business in construction and is looking forward to retiring soon and returning home to take it easy.
As usual, there were some folks I met who broke my heart. My new friend that I'll call Jose, had some pretty normal issues physically, but confided that he's having a hard time holding it together. Back home, his wife just underwent serious surgery, using up the money he'd saved to build a house back there, and 4 other close family members were dying of cancer. His family, when they are able to talk, cry and depend on him for encouragement. He said he gives them that, tells them that everything will be ok, that God will help them. When he hangs up, he said, "I have a hole in my heart right here that hurts, and I don't know what to do". When asked if God would come to his aid, he quickly answered "YES, even though sometimes I doubt it and get angry with Him, I believe He will help me". I got the privelege of helping (interpreting) him through a session with an onsite mental health provider who was able to give him some things to think about and help him redirect his great anxiety.
A mother of six is all alone in a trailer park after her husband has been deported after a traffic violation. She has no money for food or rent. It was painful to see her walk away knowing that we couldn't do quite enough to help her find the resources she needs. Even harder to know she would be denied services from the state if she sought them.
For the average laborer from Mexico, at home they have the chance to earn about $10 a day, but are able to earn $8 or $9 an hour here. That's the high range of earning. Tomato pickers, for example, might earn .45 to .65 (yes, thats CENTS) per 35 pound bucket of tomatoes they pick. It makes much sense to them to survive by sending money home, saving it until they can afford to build a home and have their own place, and return to the land they love.
Taxes and the Undocumented-Michael's Soapbox
We had lots of good conversations this trip. We agreed that it's too bad the the plight of the undocumented worker is most often exactly the opposite of the perception that most folks have, and make judgments on. The truth is that most undocumented workers pay income taxes. Many have SS Numbers, whether authentic or not, and taxes are deducted from every check they receive. They, of course, pay sales taxes when they shop. But they all are actually denied services for health care, mental health care, social services by the state and have to depend on charity organizations to help them. Their children born in our country, do have access to medical care through Medicaid.
.......................
I always end up in a state of grace after serving these folks every year. Suddenly I am grateful for what I have and cognizant of what I think I need that I don't need. I am encouraged, every time, by the drive and determination of the human spirit, and I return knowing that we all are able to accomplish much more than we're even willing to attempt to do. I hope one day I'm able to be consistent in remembering the lessons that I learn and see significant change in myself as a result. I hope it's this year that this happens.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Angels Among Us
Like an angel broken loose from heaven and on the lam, she ran around the camp, infecting everywhere she went with love and laughter. Smiles appeared on tired sweaty faces and giggles could be heard. She ran to daddy and, when he said “That’s my daughter; she has Down Syndrome”, his love for her was as obvious as her imperfection. She thumbed through a book with pictures of dogs and he glowed when he said “She loves dogs. She adores the little ones”. I thought of my pup that I miss and pulled up his picture on my smart phone. When I handed it to him for his approval he smiled and handed him over electronically to this creature of goodness for her blessing. She brought my phone to her lips and kissed my dog. For a full two minutes she locked lips with him; it was like she was doing CPR on a dying man. Though I’m not sure of it, I think I might now have the most blessed phone and canine in the country.
Dad was in dire straits and needed help. A laundry list of physical issues presented and he wanted help. He came with past fixes in his hand and wanted them replaced, but the gentle purveyor of healing arts was interested as much in what was going on inside his heart as he was his body. He cared, and sometimes that’s all it takes to make you feel like there is hope. “Maybe you need to talk to somebody” he cajoled, husband to husband. “Tell me a little about your home life”. This guy is one of the good ones. The kind you want to send your family to for care and healing. But, still, “daddy” denied his issues and asked for pills. With a little disappointment and maybe a little pain in his eyes, the healer walked away to consult for the best answer.
Alone with this dad and his problems, I started to do the only thing I was able to do. “Tell me about your family back home”. But his heart was open too and he asked me simply “How much would it cost to talk to someone?” I suggested we talk with him and assured him that it would for sure be possible and continued my quest to keep him occupied. And then the truth started coming out. “My dad’s pretty sick”. As he described his illness I could hardly believe it. And mom, too. He told a desperate story of his parents back home, a long way from here. They are dependent on him, like his wife and two other kids. “You have brothers and sisters back there to help?”, I asked. “Yeah.” My brother is 11.” My heart was aching, but I had to ask him. “Can we please talk to him about this when he gets back?” “Oh, yeah”, he said. It was clear he wanted to get whatever help necessary to be the man he has been called to be on this earth.
Our healer came back and guided him to the person he needs and left him there. And then he moved on to the next desperate story with a little spring in his step. This was one of the good outcomes. We’ll both carry around the names of a dad and a little angel with us for a good while, and we’ll remind the Creator of them when we can, and know that His healing and help has been offered, and that He is faithful.
I met an angel today.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Widows and Why We Should Care
Jesus said to take care of them, but most of His followers, I think, tend to think it's someone else's job. As a rule, we don't even think they exist. Widows are largely out of sight, and we've empowered women to take care of themselves so it's not PC to try and help. And orphans are hidden away in orphanages or in foster care. But I wanna talk about widows. Who are they? What is our responsibility?
A careful look around my city reveals a couple of different kinds of widows. First, there are the traditional, elderly ladies, whose husbands have died. I'm from a small town, and there, they are everywhere. Usually they are looked after by their adult children or by a group of church ladies. I think this is what Jesus had in mind. I know a young father who spends time regularly just eating meals with the widows in his neighborhood, giving them access to his young daughter. What a gift; they get a free granddaughter and she gets many grandmothers. Nothing better!
Then, there are the less visible or recognizable widows. With large numbers of immigrants in our midst, and with an aggressive deportation policy by our government, they are being left behind here without jobs and with children in larger and larger numbers. Inhumane immigration policies like those recently put in place in Arizona and Georgia give immigrants little recourse when they find themselves in situations where they have need. Even when crimes are being committed against them, they are powerless. No matter what government policy is, though, our allegiance is to our Creator, and His call is to care and to take care.
Two other groups of women who deserve our care are those made widows by one of the three wars we are in currently, and those made so by men who walk out of marriages to avoid responsibility.
What do we owe these women? Basic needs. Companionship. Caring. All the things we have come to look to the government to do for those who can't do for themselves. Where I grew up, there is the concept of treating all women they they were your mama. This assumes that you treat your mama right. Let's get to it.
http://jeverettphoto.wordpress.com/widows-in-america/
A careful look around my city reveals a couple of different kinds of widows. First, there are the traditional, elderly ladies, whose husbands have died. I'm from a small town, and there, they are everywhere. Usually they are looked after by their adult children or by a group of church ladies. I think this is what Jesus had in mind. I know a young father who spends time regularly just eating meals with the widows in his neighborhood, giving them access to his young daughter. What a gift; they get a free granddaughter and she gets many grandmothers. Nothing better!
Then, there are the less visible or recognizable widows. With large numbers of immigrants in our midst, and with an aggressive deportation policy by our government, they are being left behind here without jobs and with children in larger and larger numbers. Inhumane immigration policies like those recently put in place in Arizona and Georgia give immigrants little recourse when they find themselves in situations where they have need. Even when crimes are being committed against them, they are powerless. No matter what government policy is, though, our allegiance is to our Creator, and His call is to care and to take care.
Two other groups of women who deserve our care are those made widows by one of the three wars we are in currently, and those made so by men who walk out of marriages to avoid responsibility.
What do we owe these women? Basic needs. Companionship. Caring. All the things we have come to look to the government to do for those who can't do for themselves. Where I grew up, there is the concept of treating all women they they were your mama. This assumes that you treat your mama right. Let's get to it.
http://jeverettphoto.wordpress.com/widows-in-america/
Thursday, August 26, 2010
An American Hero
This Man Walked from NYC to Oregon in 6 Months.........Matt Green
I've followed his trip, which ended yesterday, all the way. It has been fun to watch the pictures roll in from accross our country. And to enjoy his insight and humor. The man never posted a harsh word, an ugly comment. I am SO jealous of what he did, and happy he accomplished what he set out to do.
You can see his BLOG here.
I've followed his trip, which ended yesterday, all the way. It has been fun to watch the pictures roll in from accross our country. And to enjoy his insight and humor. The man never posted a harsh word, an ugly comment. I am SO jealous of what he did, and happy he accomplished what he set out to do.
You can see his BLOG here.
One of Matt's Pictures from the Road
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The things I've done
qualify me for death, I mean like immediately. But, like it or not, I aint died yet. And I have a hope that is in someone other than me. It was a free gift. Sometimes it feels like they'll be coming for me any minute. Wow. I'm free.
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