Today marks the 50th day that the 33 miners in the desert of Chile have been trapped underground. For those of you who haven’t been following the story, it could be until November before they get out. They receive food, music, medicine, and other necessary and psychologically helpful items via “palomas,” containers named after carrier pigeons, also known as doves (lovely, right?). BBC’s coverage is pretty good if you have missed the saga: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/special_reports/chile_mine/ .
My heart breaks for the families who are waiting hopefully but anxiously on the surface, and I am astounded by the strength and resilience of the men surviving in the dark, damp, hot mine. Several have celebrated birthdays underground. One has become a father (he got to see a video of the birth that he couldn’t attend). One is diabetic. The guys have formed three teams, and they rotate shifts to stay busy, make sure everyone remains healthy, and keep things running smoothly. I can only imagine the bonds that they are forming in such a uniquely stressful situation. It reminds me once again of the strength of the human spirit and, moreover, the power of community. I’d be willing to bet that one miner alone would be in far worse shape than these guys, who have formed a squadron in the trenches. I will continue to pray for them, and I can’t wait to celebrate with Chile when they are rescued.
As for courage and community closer to home, most of you probably know that my grandpa had emergency gall bladder removal surgery yesterday and was in pretty critical condition as of last evening. I was preparing to book a flight home after I got word that he was on a ventilator after the operation and that he didn’t seem to be doing well. The first words I heard this morning were my dad’s, who called at 6:30am (ten minutes before I woke up for my run, as it turns out—don’t feel bad, Dad!) and told me that Grandpa’s situation was looking much brighter. This afternoon, I learned that he is off the ventilator, joking with the nurses, insatiably thirsty, and his usually feisty self.
My biggest concern when I am away is that something will happen to someone I love at home; I know that Brittany shares these same worries and has had difficulty being in Spain during this ordeal. Still, every time something like this rocks my family, I am reminded to count my blessings in the same breath as my prayer for healing, recovery, or what have you—my family, in spite of (or maybe because of) our oddities, is a squadron in and of itself, and we are led by an incredible patriarch who never ceases to amaze me. Grandpa’s fallen on some hard times—a stroke, a bike accident, several miscellaneous maladies, and now this, all in the past couple of years since Grandma Pat’s death—and I’m awed by his Depression-era perseverance. In addition, I’m continually grateful for our small, tight-knit family and for the support that we’re able to give one another, across states, continents, and oceans.
I get homesick sometimes, but most of you are only a phone call, email, or Skype session away. And missing you reminds me to count you among my many blessings! Every day at work, I talk with people who are alone in the deepest sense of the word. Any family they might have is miles and miles away, struggling to make ends meet somewhere in Mexico or Central America. This week alone, I probably met twenty single mothers; one had five children, and when she told me what her monthly income is, I nearly gasped because it’s nowhere near enough to help those babies thrive. One of my favorite seniors (coincidentally, the one who reminds me of Grandpa) needed a doctor’s appointment once, and I asked him if he had anyone who could accompany him, possibly someone who spoke English. He has only his wife, a Spanish-speaker with her own health issues. They hang on to each other for dear life because they have absolutely no one else.
To have a community is a beautiful, beautiful gift, one that seems much easier to take note of during the darkest and most difficult moments when we rely on others the most (or notice that we are mostly alone). Living in community, in the JVC sense of that concept, is not always easy. We disagree. We probably annoy one another. We come from different places. We have to make sacrifices. But I understand 100% why a primary focus of this program is this striving to live in harmonious and supportive relationships with others. We need each other! Period.
Viva Chile! And hurry up and heal, GPa. I love you!
Amanda
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