Nate Humbles Me

Nate has been in Iraq for 4 months now. I hold my breath every time 2 weeks go by without contact. It was so easy for me to have opinions about the war/government/etc. before I knew anyone in the conflict. Now that a friend is there, now that war is a friend's reality... needless to say, it complicates one's perspective. It's easy to say "it's war... people die in war..." when you don't know the "people".

Nate's writings to his readers here at home have been amazing to follow. I've learned so much... but mostly, I've been incredibly humbled. He wrote home again the other day. While we were watching fireworks here in the U.S. (or while I was complaining about the guy down the street still setting off fireworks after midnight), he was getting shot at. Different kinds of fireworks. While contemplating what life might be like when he returns home someday, he said some things that hit closer to home than anything yet:

We will attempt to go back to church, wondering if the preacher in the pulpit talking about poverty in some far country has ever smelled the stench of human feces in open trenches, or seen the look of hopelessness in the eyes of black-clad women walking war-rubbled streets; we’ll wonder if the successful out-of-shape suburbanite, sitting next to us in Bible study and thanking God for His mercy, has ever had indelibly imprinted in his senses the smell of his friend’s burnt flesh, the one that didn’t make it out of the Humvee in time

--Nate Showman; July 5, 2007

I'm going to re-print what I sent to Nate earlier, for the archives:

Man... I feel like I could write a book worth of feelings I'm feeling right now, but I know you don't have the time to read it all. So I'll keep it simple: I'm humbled every time you post.

Here I sit in my very nice 2-bedroom house, feeling cramped because it's not a 4-bedroom house. Here I sit safe from the elements in an 80-degree living room, uncomfortable because it's not a 68-degree living room. Here I drive on safe roads whch happen to be "under construction", frustrated that the orange barrels have been up for multiple months. Here I eat nachos and drink Coke while listening to the Reds game on radio, wishing I had an HDTV and cable. Here, while enjoying a dish of ice cream on the evening of the 4th, I was bummed that I couldn't get to a fireworks show because we have a young son.

Nate... I am an ungrateful, lazy American piece of crap. You are a warrior and a hero. I need to be more like you. I'm thankful to call you 'friend', and, right now, feel quite unworthy to do so.