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The
other night the moon was full.
It
illuminated the dusty air and cast my shadow as I
walked to dinner. It turned the world into a black
and white photograph and silhouetted the palm trees
along the banks of the palace lake. When the moon
is bright like that, it creates the illusion that
you can see much better than you can.
It
has other affects too. I remember a summer night on
Crete years ago when the moon shone so brightly the
streets gleamed silver, and I was powerless to
resist the urge to go for a bicycle ride. I pedaled
along the coast, watching the phosphorescent waves.
I turned up into the mountains where the scent of
the ocean gives way to that of olive and eucalyptus
trees. I sacrificed half a night's sleep. I'm lucky
I didn't get hit by a car. A full moon will always
remind me of the sound of my tires whispering on
the pavement, and the feeling that I was being
given a glimpse of something priceless.
Apparently
I am not alone in this kind of foolishness.
I
woke in the middle of the night to the eerie yips
and howls of jackals, prowling the palace yard and
calling to the moon. I lay awake and listened until
the roar of a helicopter overpowered their calls
and drove them away. The helicopters use the tower
in which I sleep as a turning point on their
approach to the field. I'm so used to the sound
now, that I hardly notice it &endash; can sleep
right through it. Somehow though, the lonely cries
of the jackals woke me. I'm glad they
did.
Tonight's
walk to chow was moonless. The night here is so
black that people bump into each other and trip
over curbstones. There are streetlights of course,
but they are not turned on. To walk about under
lights is to invite the attention of a sniper.
Instead, people carry tiny flashlights, which they
snap on as they approach steps and uneven spots in
the pavement. There are many of these. Everywhere
you walk there are comm. wires, construction
projects, drainage ditches, mounds of dirt, stray
sand bags, and potholes. With all the flashlights
winking on and off, I imagine the camp looks from a
distance as if it's occupied by
fireflies.
The
darkness showcases the stars though, and I am
probably more in danger of tripping because I'm
staring at them than because of obstacles.
Tonight
I was searching for familiar constellations as I
picked my way along, and I saw a stream of red
tracers rising high overhead. They flew from so far
away that I never heard the shots that propelled
them, and they crossed the sky slowly, almost
lazily. They seemed to be directed at one of the
balloons tethered above the camp, but from so far
away it's hard to tell. It's hard too, at such a
range, to feel endangered by them. They seem more
like the neighboring town's fireworks than bullets
someone is firing from a gun.
This
unit gets a lot of boxes in the mail. They are the
recipients of many "Any soldier" mailings, and
today I saw in one a three-ringed binder filled
with pages of construction paper. I opened it and
found that to each page had been glued clippings
from newspapers and magazines; pictures of American
landscapes, stories of American people.
Between
the photographs the maker of the book had written
little messages. Some explained the significance of
the clippings; some passed on words of
encouragement. Others assured us that we are loved,
missed, and prayed for fervently.
You
may be surprised to know I got choked up looking at
that book. It touched me deeply to know that
someone took the time to clip those articles and
pictures, glue them carefully to paper, hole punch
the paper and even reinforce the holes with those
little sticky circles. There must have been 50
pages of clippings, and between each, those
handwritten notes. All just to send out in the
hopes that someone in the military would find it,
read it, and know that they are loved. What nice
people we have in our country.
It
makes me even prouder to serve them.
God
bless,
Steven
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In
the background is Air Force House. Steven sleeps on
the top floor, helicopters use it as a break point
on approach.
(click for a larger image)
In
the midst of the war zone, Steven says he is
surrounded by beauty.
(click for a larger image)
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