adventuresinkarma

As the 4 of you that are loyal readers know, I started writing this blog secure in the belief that Karma was real, and that it might be at least mildly entertaining to sit back, and watch both myself, as well as the world at large get what was coming to them, both good and bad. I had actually planned on something witty and hilarious about what on Earth we, in Central Oklahoma and Northwest Arkansas, did to deserve the multitude of earthquakes that have plagued us for the last week or so, and I may still. But right now, all I can see is that the Earth is responding to the awful, horrific events that have come to light from Happy Valley this week.

Our kids think that as they grow, parents have more and more confidence in their abilities to operate independently. Sending them off into the wide world, no matter how short a distance, alone, says to them, “You’re ready. You’ve got this”. As they jump out of the car, disappearing into the doorway of whatever building we have sent them, they have learned to say (in the words of my 11 year old), “I’m good”. What they don’t realize is that when we drop them off, sending them out into the world of scouts, basketball practice, sleepovers with the neighbor kid, they’re not heading off into the world alone. Oh, no. In fact, the “handoff” is a delicate dance, as finely tuned and precise as two Emperor penguins moving a baby chick from one set of feet to another. One misstep, one mistake, and the baby hits the ice and freezes to death within minutes.

The only thing that allows us to function as parents as we start to teach our children to develop independence, is the ability to look in the eyes of adults we hand our children to, and know that above all else, “you will not drop my child”. That whatever “penguin” we have trusted our children to, will keep them safe, warm, and away from the leopard seals of the world. This is what makes the whole Penn State situation so disturbing, and so terrifying. Make no mistake about it, the leopard seal here is Jerry Sandusky. I know he has yet to be convicted by a jury; however, he has admitted to enough heinous activity already that there is no doubt about what kind of predator he is. If you’ve watched documentaries on Emperor penguins, you know that leopard seals will typically hide under the ice, and pick off the penguins that are either slow, lost, or venture into the water first. Once the other penguins figure out what is going on, they sound the alarm. Occasionally, the seal will make its way onto the surface of the ice, and chaos ensues. Some penguins will make as much noise as they can, both as a warning and an attempt to scare the seal away. And finally, a few brave penguins will put their own lives on the line to try and drive the seal away, back into the dark corner of the water it came from, hopefully bleeding.

No one in authority at Penn State did either of these things. The very ones that should have been at the front lines, doing everything they could to protect those that were not able to protect themselves, did something even worse than running away. They looked the leopard seal in the eye, and all but handed him a napkin with a “bon appétit”. And Joe Paterno, everyone’s beloved JoePa, bears a giant portion of this burden. For years, he did worse than nothing. While this was going on in his locker room, at HIS university (for we all know that he is PSU), under his nose, he was sitting in hundreds of living rooms around the country, looking parents in the eye and saying, “trust us with your young men”.

Yes, JoePa, you did everything you were legally bound to do. But when those babies needed a hero to take on the leopard seal, where were you? How could you not do everything in your power to live up to the image you so carefully crafted, and that the entire nation had of you? And if we, as parents can’t trust that Joe Paterno, the poster child for ethics and morality in college football, would step up, who can we expect to? The first reaction is, “how can I ever let my babies of my sight again?”, but I know I will. I also know that those involved will get exactly what they deserve. I may not ever see it, but trust me, it will happen.

And once again, out of nowhere, here comes the big ol’ karmic blessing. Because deep down inside, under the fear, the revulsion, and the disappointment I’m still feeling, I really do know that there are those that will not drop my child. And that my boys and I have friends and adults in their life that have more guts, integrity, and all around character than Joe Paterno himself. And it’s a pretty amazing feeling. And if there is a leopard seal hiding in our waters, it will be found, and NO ONE will suffer in silence. Not on my watch.

Soon after the tornado hit Joplin last week, I figured that at some point, I’d write about making sense of how karma could have played into such an awful act of Mother Nature. Really, how on earth could something so awful be anything close to balancing the universe? The pictures, and the stories were horrific. Nearly an entire nation waited with bated breath to discover the fate of Will Norton, senselessly pulled from the passenger seat of his car by 200 mile an hour winds. His crime? Leaving his high school graduation with his dad. For every well publicized story like this, there were hundreds that most will never hear about, and all of them would break your heart. The description of a missing 12 year old painted on the side of a truck; a woman waiting for 4 hours besides the body of her grandfather, knowing that no one was coming until the living had been attended to; the discovery of the clothing of a missing infant wrapped around a telephone pole, but the baby was nowhere to be found.

Like every good Southern woman, my first reaction in a time of great need is to feed someone. When the opportunity presented itself to join a crew doing just that for first responders, relief workers, and victims, I jumped. Besides the overwhelming need to
do something, anything, to help, I was hoping to try to make sense of what happened. Instead, I found my own life changed forever, and blessed beyond all expectation.

Not for a minute do I really believe that God sent a tornado down to the city of Joplin with the express purpose of destroying a good chunk of the city, and taking well over 100 lives. What I learned, however, is that His real work began once the winds stopped. By 9:00 the next morning, the company I work for was onsite, ready to feed folks from 2 different locations. One, at the edge of the devastation so victims could find them easier, and the other, at the police station to try and take care of first responders in a small, but very important way. I spent an evening at the police station, and when I arrived, I was prepared to provide, love, gratitude and comfort to those serving. Instead, I was the recipient of all of it.

Every police office, fire fighter, National Guardsman that came through the line acted like we were doing them a favor for feeding them a hot meal. They were combing the wreckage, finding God only knows what unspeakable horror, and they were thanking me. Volunteers asked me when the last time I had a hug was, and proceeded to give them to me; Joplin police officers smiled at me, the enormity of what they were dealing with lurking just below the surface, and thanked us for providing them with a hamburger; Missouri State Troopers asked us if they could provide us with a donation for the work we were doing. My answer each time was the same: We are the ones trying to thank you.

I can’t imagine what it took for these people, many of them Joplin residents, to spend days away from their families, getting little to no sleep, and keep working, keep searching, and finding things that only visit my nightmares. We fed dinner to families, so kids could spend 30 minutes with their parents for the first time in days. We fed victims that somehow found their way out of the destruction to the relative normalcy of downtown. The young ones seemed to be in the best shape, the terror seemingly beyond them. One small boy greeted me with a giant smile, and answered every question with an enthusiastic, “I’m Hayden!”. Mom, however, was a different story. Obviously shell-shocked, she gazed past all of us with the 1000 yard stare, struggling to answer even the simplest of questions. “Hamburger or hot dog for Hayden?” took 10 seconds to make its way from her ears, past heaven knows what horror, to her brain. We kept her close for dinner, and were thankful that the small number of victims in our location gave us that ability. We saw her again a few hours later, drifting down the street, holding Hayden’s hand as if she were trying to tether him to the earth yet again.

Maybe it was the proximity to Memorial Day, but the person that had the greatest impact on me was one that I never exchanged a word with, never had a change to give him a hot burger and maybe a smile. As the sun was going down, a kid in the National Guard (I can say kid because at that distance, he might have been all of 24), striding across the street, in uniform, deep in conversation with his partner. From the look of them, even at that distance, they were engrossed in work conversation. It looked just like the dozens of conversations I witnessed from a distance that day with one exception: This guy was missing his left arm below the elbow. Having already given so much, and seen what was likely a hundred times worse than what is beyond words for the rest of us, he was back out there, still giving. I only wish I would have had the opportunity to thank him, and let him know what kind of blessing he’d given me, just by his presence.

Ancient wisdom says that acts of Karma will be visited on you ten fold. I only wish I knew what wonderful thing I had done in my life to have deserved what was returned to me last Thursday.

The road to recovery will be long, and Joplin is not the only community suffering. Please visit the Red Cross to find out how you can help.