Here’s a story that hopefully gives you a chuckle.
Early in my time in the Air Force, I tried out to be a survival instructor. The class only started twice a year at Fairchild Air Force Base near Spokane, Washington. While waiting around for the next class to start, we did lots of exercising and other physical training to prepare our bodies for the rigors of the upcoming course.
One of the things we did on a weekly basis was load up our ruck sacks and go on long hikes in a state park or some weird trail or on public land out in the boonies. The idea was to keep our bodies accustomed to bearing heavy loads for a long time as we moved over miles of terrain, and along the way practice some land navigation. We were fortunate enough to have some pretty relaxed superiors while waiting around for training to start, and since we’re talking the Air Force (not the Army or Marines), they told us “hey, as long as they’re decent, you can wear civilian clothes during this ruck; the only guidelines are that you wear the issued boots you intend to wear during the course and you must bring a loaded ruck.”
Now, when you go for long hikes once a week, it doesn’t take long before you start repeating trails. One of the sergeants in charge of us had an idea to help break up the monotony. He had family an hour or two away from the base; his parents lived in Idaho somewhere, I think. He worked out a plan to have us go for a hike near their location, then we could spend the night at his parents’ house, and we’d come back to base the next morning. As far as training goes, this was very casual and actually a really generous thing for his parents to do. (Would you be willing to host 20-30 very fit and very hungry males with an extra dose of testosterone at your home? I wouldn’t.)
When we went on our hikes, we physically took up a lot of room. There were a lot of us, and we each had a large ruck sack, so we normally took a big bus that was pretty much a navy blue school bus with a very “for official use only” look to it. We piled in, drove off to whatever trail we were going to hit that day, and did our hike.
I don’t remember the details, but for some reason, when we finished our hike and got back to the bus, we needed to kill some time before we could go to the house. We ended up driving into town where a high school baseball game was going on. I think maybe the sergeant wanted to say hi to the coach, who was an old friend or something. We didn’t really know, our attitude was “hey man, I get on the bus when they tell me, I go where it takes me, and I get off the bus when it stops.” Well, they told us to leave our rucks on the bus and come outside to watch the game.
As we spread out on the grass, dozing in the sunshine, shooting the breeze, or watching the game, we looked around and started noticing some of the locals looked uneasy. None of us could figure out why. We hung out for maybe 20 minutes to half an hour, then got back on the bus and rolled out to wherever we were going next. We later found out they thought we were from a nearby prison and were out on a work detail whose very limited supervision was chatting up the baseball team’s coach and not paying much attention to the bunch of rough-looking guys, wearing the same boots, with similar haircuts and no facial hair, all piling off the government-issue bus.
I guess if I had to pick a moral to the story, I’d say even though it might not be your fault, sometimes people are going to make assumptions about you based on how you look or the vibe you give off. Before you get mad at them, don’t be afraid to step back from the situation and maybe even laugh at yourself a little. Cut them some slack. You might’ve jumped to the same conclusion if you were in their shoes. Or boots.
In my early Air Force days, I pursued training to become a survival instructor. The Air Force is the only branch of service where you can spend a whole military career as a Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape (SERE) Specialist. The other military branches have them, but they’re only temporary assignments, something you do for a few years at most before returning to your regular job. Anyway, that’s free info; now back to my story.
The main SERE school is at Fairchild Air Force Base near Spokane, Washington. The course all SERE Specialists were required to pass only started twice a year, so folks put together a program to keep us busy and out of trouble while we were waiting around for class to start. We were together just about all the time. Every weekday we worked out in the mornings, and then afternoons varied. One day a week we’d do a full PT test in the morning and a timed 7-mile ruck march after lunch. One afternoon a week we’d have details (more or less do chores, restocking supplies, cleaning up or repairing things around our building). Once a week we’d go to a state park or something similar and go for ruck marches up and over mountains, where we’d practice our land navigation and keep our bodies accustomed to carrying heavy weight for a sustained period. There were lots of other odds and ends to keep us busy while we waited for class to start (help unpack moving vans for the families of students who had started class and were out in the field, help perform maintenance on the equipment getting used by the class ahead of us, etc.).
One of the standard activities we did was to spend time in “the back 40.” The back 40 was a section near us where we went to learn and practice some of the skills we’d need once we started class. Here we learned to sharpen and swing an axe, how to start fires with the stuff around us, how to build a shelter out of parachutes, all kinds of skills you’d need to survive in the wild. The course we wanted to pass had a high failure rate, and the instructors found that this type of orientation helped prepare students for the training, resulting in fewer washouts.
We were all part of a very physical career field, and as a result, it seemed like someone was always heading to the doctor. Although we’d all gather at a certain spot before heading out to the back 40, it became common practice for those returning from appointments to meet up with the group at a certain spot the group passed on their way to the back 40. One day we were all heading out to the back 40 when we saw a guy in the same uniform as us, wearing his ruck sack just like we were, standing motionless and waiting for us at this spot. Someone among us asked “who’s that?” We all took a look up ahead, trying to figure it out. Someone said “he stands like Jones.” A quick look around the group verified that Jones wasn’t among us, and as we got closer, it turned out that it was indeed Jones. We spent so much time together that someone in our group was able to identify someone off in the distance, who was dressed just like us and had the same haircut, simply by the way he stood.
There’s a story in the Old Testament where something similar happened. In 2 Samuel chapter 18, an aging King David was waiting for news from a battle. As he sat near the city gate, the watchman on duty announced two separate men running toward the city. While they waited eagerly for the messengers to arrive, the watchman said in verse 27 “I think the running of the first is like the running of Ahimaaz the son of Zadok.” Here again is someone who’s able to identify another from far off by the individual’s kinesthetics. The way their body moves, or their posture, gives away their identity. Each of us is so different from one another that the way our bodies move gives us away, like a fingerprint.
Of all the people God could’ve chosen to live the life you’re living, He chose you. We’re unique individuals God stitched together, with no two looking, moving, or behaving exactly alike. In all that uniqueness, God prepared challenges for you in this life that you’re superbly qualified for. Other people could do it, but God chose you to do it. Embrace your uniqueness, whatever that looks like, and live the life God’s called you to live. You’re the best person for the job.
If you weren’t aware, we’re changing the clocks this weekend in the United States. Since we’re “falling back,” it means we gain an hour of sleep on Sunday morning, the sun will be up earlier in the mornings, and it will get dark sooner in the afternoon.
There are some unsung heroes I’d like to remind everyone about.
Military members get paid by the month. That means no matter how many hours they work, they get paid the same; they don’t get overtime pay.
Years ago, when I wore the uniform, I spent a few years doing shift work. In our unit there was always a crew on duty, no matter what time of the day or night or what holiday it was. We worked 12-hour shifts and we changed over at 6 or 7 o’clock, if memory serves. We worked three and a half days, then had three and a half days off.
Twice a year we’d change the clocks. For those lucky folks on duty during the springtime clock change, it meant their 12-hour shift was actually only 11 hours long. The way the rotation fell, I think I was on duty a couple of times for this event. On the flip side of the coin, however, there was a crew right around this time of year that had their 12-hour shift get stretched into 13 hours. I don’t remember ever falling on the wrong side of things for that clock change, but there was always a crew that had to deal with it.
There are lots of people out there who deserve our thanks, not only year-round, but especially this weekend. Hospital workers, police officers, fire fighters, military shift workers, security guards, and all sorts of other people (right down to the gas station and convenience store workers) are pulling an extra hour this weekend to ensure there’s no interruption in service or capability. If you know one or run into one, give them an extra “thank you” in the next few days.
About 7 months after joining the Air Force, I washed out of SERE Specialist training. My knees couldn’t cope with the physical rigors of the job, and I wasn’t allowed to continue to the next level of training. I’m not gonna lie, it was a rough time for me. It was probably the first real time in my life that I failed to achieve something I’d set out to do.
Fast forward through all the self pity, and I decided to stay in the Air Force but train to do something else. I decided on a role in intelligence. After the paperwork came through, I transferred from Fairchild Air Force Base (AFB) in Washington State to Goodfellow AFB, Texas.
It was a tough adjustment. Everything about the change was difficult. I went from an environment where I had been given a lot of freedom, trust, and responsibility to an environment where I was given virtually none of that. Most of the students at this base were fresh out of Basic Training, and needed a high degree of supervision, whereas I did not. The water in the area (and as a result, everything cooked in or prepared with the water) tasted gross. We were in the middle of two wars at the time, and in order to maintain sufficient student throughput the training programs involved multiple shifts of teaching each day. The base’s population seemed like it was maxed out. There weren’t enough dorms to put all the bodies, so they had to re-open old ones or put off shutting down dorms that were scheduled to be shuttered. Chow halls were open at midnight to accommodate those in class at night (or preparing for class to start). Students were sleeping, exercising, and attending classes at all hours of the day to try to maximize the facilities available.
I eventually adjusted, but it wasn’t a fun place to be. Goodfellow AFB is in a town called San Angelo. This place is about three hours from any big city. It’s a fantastic place to live if you’re raising a young family or enjoy a slower pace of life. Like, no kidding, people just pull out camp chairs and hang out in the Walmart parking lot on Friday nights (or at least they did when I was stationed there). The locals there love the military, and are truly wonderful folks. Most of the Airmen that came to Goodfellow, however, came there because the Air Force sent them there to learn a new job, and most of those people were young, single, and got bored easily. When young single people get bored, it usually leads to trouble. We had people get in trouble for underage drinking, breaking curfew, “inappropriate relations,” leaving base when they weren’t supposed to, and just about anything else you could imagine. One of my classmates even attempted suicide.
Between my time spent in college and the time I’d already chalked up elsewhere in the military, this was about year number five of dorm life for me, so you can imagine how it was getting old by this time. I figured out early in my stay at San Angelo that my sole purpose, the only reason in the world that Uncle Sam had sent me to this place, was to learn the core skills and knowledge I’d need for doing my job once I got to subsequent duty stations. As far as I was concerned, it was in my own best interest to hunker down, do well in class, and graduate on time. All else was secondary, and graduating was the fastest way to get out of there. I had already done a lot of the growing up that many of my fellow students still needed to do, so I saw things differently than many of them did.
Since the weeks were spent in an oppressive military environment, I spent a lot of time on weekends away from the base, at the nearest skydiving drop zone I could find. The drop zone was about an hour and a half away. Since there wasn’t much else to do except hang out with someone that would probably end up getting in trouble, the long trips weren’t such a bad thing. It would have been easy to just sneak away and not tell anybody what I was doing, but I had seen so many people get in trouble over stupid stuff that I decided it was better to just play by the rules. I went and got permission from our squadron commander to go skydiving. Every Friday before my weekend excursions I would go and get the same stupid safety brief from people that had no idea what kind of safety tips to brief me on when it came to skydiving. I got the dumb paperwork saying that I had received the brief and kept it on file. I did it right.
By the end of my time at Goodfellow, I had numerous classmates that had gotten themselves into some kind of trouble. One had some kind of security violation. Another one got administratively punished for violating something or other. One got pregnant and wasn’t sure for awhile who the father was. Because of my mindset that I was only going to be here for a short time and that the best course of action was to focus on my purpose for being there, I managed to avoid a lot of the headaches and hassles that a lot of other people got caught up in. I forfeited a lot of the “good times” that others took part in, but in hindsight, I really didn’t miss out on much. There was plenty of time for fun stuff after moving on from there.
A lot of Christians remind me of my former classmates in certain ways. They forget why they’re here and start focusing on things that don’t have lasting impact. Being a Christian isn’t just a Sunday morning proposition. After getting saved, we’ve really only got one objective in our lives: glorify God by taking part in the purpose He’s placed us here for and equipped us to do. I know that task often lacks clarity. It usually ends up being a question that takes patience to receive an answer to. That’s why many stop asking.
There are a lot of rules in the Bible (do this, don’t do that, strive for this, etc.), but they’re there for a reason. I’m not advocating for legalism, but if you live according to the way scripture says you should live, you usually lead a life that isn’t full of complications, which enables you to focus on your objective better. It would have been easier for me to just drive off base on Saturday mornings and go skydiving without having to jump through all those administrative hoops, and I probably would’ve gotten away with it most of the time. All it would’ve taken was one time getting caught, and it could have resulted in restriction to base or other privileges being revoked. Those hoops were a headache, but they weren’t hard. Doing the right thing was worth it, because it allowed me to pursue my goals while staying out of trouble.
This life is a flash in the pan. It’s over so fast. I’m not saying you should stay home in a corner praying or only wearing clothes made from camel hair your whole life. Quite the opposite, our joy in Christ is supposed to be evident to all. What I’m saying is that God arranged for your life to be powerful and meaningful in its ability to bring glory to His name, and that it’s up to you how much of that potential you want to fulfill. Use the gifts and talents God’s blessed you with. If you ditch the distractions, you can run your race well and “graduate on time” (hopefully, “with honors”). There will be time for lots of fun and celebration, but that comes after passing the tests and doing the hard work. Don’t be distracted from doing what you were put here to do.
God, it is absolutely unbelievable how You’ve interwoven our lives and how the faithful use of our gifts can impact each other and the world. I know that the vast majority of us won’t live up to our full potential for Christian obedience to Your call, please forgive us for that. Help us be sensitive to the opportunities we still have left to honor Your name, and give us the clarity, wisdom, and boldness to pursue what You’d have us do. I ask these things in Your name, Amen.
I’m sure it irritates folks that are hostile toward religion, but there are still some things in our culture that stem from Judeo-Christian beliefs. I like that we still have “In God We Trust” on our money, but at this point I think we’re probably kidding ourselves about its accuracy for the nation. Maybe the one that will stick around the longest is a seven-day week. Those aren’t the only examples though.
Strangely enough, it appears some of our corporate culture is modeled after Jesus Christ’s example.
If you’ve ever spent time in a work role that involves giving or getting formal feedback, you’ve probably seen this firsthand.
If you’ve ever been a supervisor, you’ve probably had to have some uneasy or unpleasant conversations. When I was in the Air Force, practicing this very thing in a class, all of us got to do a hard one. I think I had to sit down with a fake subordinate and let them know that they needed to shower more frequently or something like that. Not such a fun task.
Usually giving feedback isn’t quite so drastic, but there are times when hard conversations need to happen. If you’re dealing with a stellar performer, you want to let them know you see how great a job they’re doing, but you always want to give them some kind of constructive criticism. If you’re dealing with someone that’s barely avoiding a pink slip, the conversation is harder. The model typically followed is:
Start with something positive about their performance.
Call out the ugly.
Chart a path forward for getting back on track.
End on a positive note.
You may ask “this model is in the Bible?” Why yes it is.
The book of Revelation is the last book of the Bible, most famous for its cataclysmic account of history’s culmination. Less flashy is the part early in the book where Christ provides feedback for seven kinds of churches (chapters 2 and 3). These seven churches were actual churches in named cities in the first century, but I imagine most churches that profess Christ as Lord today fall into one of these categories. They are the loveless church, the persecuted church, the church that compromises, the corrupt church, the dead church, the faithful church, and the lukewarm church.
All seven of the churches are initially commended for their works, suggesting that pretty much all churches do stuff that’s looked upon positively. Some of the churches in these two chapters are commended more robustly than others. “I know your works.” “I know your works, tribulation, and poverty.” “I know your works, your labor, your patience, and that you cannot bear those who are evil.”
Five of the seven (not the persecuted or the faithful church), however, have some kind of flaw that needs to be addressed. “Nevertheless I have this against you.” “Nevertheless I have a few things against you.” “But I have a few things against you.”
Then Christ gives instructions for correcting the flaws. “Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent and do the first works, or else I will come to you quickly and remove your lampstand from its place—unless you repent.” “Repent, or else I will come to you quickly and will fight against them with the sword of My mouth.” “Remember therefore how you have received and heard; hold fast and repent. Therefore if you will not watch, I will come upon you as a thief, and you will not know what hour I will come upon you.” “As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten. Therefore be zealous and repent.” Repenting is a common theme. In the modern workplace, it’s akin to the person receiving feedback acknowledging that yes, there is a shortcoming of some sort and a correction needs to take place. This blog post isn’t that long, so it seems like I’m glossing over the whole “hey, get your act together and start performing like you know you should” thing. This is obviously where the hard work begins and where the bulk of the feedback actually occurs.
After that, though, it’s very possible, or even likely, that someone’s on the defensive (or if they’re humble and acknowledge the discrepancy, are saddened) and needs a little encouragement. Finally, the Lord ends each session on a positive note. Listen to the emphasis that’s placed on ‘overcoming’ the challenges of life in these seven passages. It’s as if Christ understood that the Christian life, as hopeful as it is, is a hard thing to lead. “To him who overcomes I will give to eat from the tree of life, which is in the midst of the Paradise of God.” “He who overcomes shall not be hurt by the second death.” “To him who overcomes I will give some of the hidden manna to eat. And I will give him a white stone, and on the stone a new name written which no one knows except him who receives it.” “And he who overcomes, and keeps My works until the end, to him I will give power over the nations…” “He who overcomes shall be clothed in white garments, and I will not blot out his name from the Book of Life; but I will confess his name before My Father and before His angels.” “He who overcomes, I will make him a pillar in the temple of My God, and he shall go out no more.” “To him who overcomes I will grant to sit with Me on My throne, as I also overcame and sat down with My Father on His throne.”
So in all circumstances, you’re facing a charge to correct your actions/thought processes, you’re a little bit broken by the realization of your shortcoming, or you’re gearing up for some challenges ahead. God would have assigned someone else to the task if you couldn’t remain faithful to what you know you’re supposed to do. Don’t be disheartened. Be an overcomer.
I’m sure you’ve heard stories of some kind of wasted taxpayer money before. Well I’m sorry to say that some wasteful federal spending once happened because of me (at least on a smallish scale).
This is back in 2004, and the Air Force was paying my salary at the time. I was stationed at Fairchild Air Force Base, near Spokane, Washington. While I was waiting for some paperwork to go through, I supplemented the folks teaching water survival.
It was a cool gig. I don’t remember what happened each day of the week, but one day out of the week was a course where they simulate being in a helicopter that crashes in the water and rolls over as it sinks. Two other days out of the week was a course where they taught students how to signal from the ocean, how to use rescue devices that were dropped from aircraft, how to use radios and distress beacons, and the course culminated in a big production in the indoor pool where the students climbed into a big aircraft simulator that then “crashed” into the ocean. There were two already-inflated life rafts lashed to the side of the pool (with ice water inside). The lights were all shut off, a thunderstorm soundtrack played from enormous speakers up in the rafters, and strobe lights simulated lightning. As the students evacuated the “aircraft” and jumped into the water, my job was to spray them using a fire hose while on a catwalk up above. I’m not gonna lie, it felt crazy to be getting paid for stuff like this.
These courses were pretty messy and took some time to set up. We used the other two days out of the week to clean up all the wet gear and reset it to prepare for the next course. Those were good days to schedule medical/dental appointments and any other type of official errands that Uncle Sam mandated.
This goober is modeling a pair of fully inflated LPUs
On one of those days, I was at some kind of appointment at the beginning of the day, then returned to the pool to help with prep. As it turned out, while I had been at my appointment, one of the instructors taught my colleague (someone that was supplementing, like me) how to pack LPUs, or Life Preservation Units. An LPU is a piece of survival gear that some aviators wear. When you’re descending toward the water while dangling from a parachute, you can pull the tabs on your LPU and two big high-visibility pontoons will inflate in a flash, providing more than enough buoyancy to keep you afloat.
Well, when I got back to the shop, my colleague showed me how to pack an LPU. Each LPU had two CO2 canisters that, when punctured by pulling the inflation tabs, quickly inflated the pontoons, even if completely submerged. Packing the LPUs meant unscrewing the old canisters, resetting the pull switches, screwing in new canisters, and then folding up the big orange/pink balloons into small compartments that could be easily worn by an aviator.
Packing LPUs
Unfortunately when my buddy showed me how to pack LPUs, he didn’t show me the right way. The two of us packed tons of LPUs and set them on the shelf, thinking they were ready for students in future classes to use. When they got pulled off the shelf and used during an actual lesson, students that ran off the diving board expecting their LPUs to inflate midair had to end up swimming for it.
While that’s obviously embarrassing for the water survival instructors, that’s not the part I owe taxpayers an apology for. The way the LPU puncture mechanism worked, it wasn’t physically possible to properly reset the mechanism without removing the new CO2 cylinders, and it wasn’t possible to remove the unused CO2 canisters without puncturing them. We had to intentionally pull the inflation tabs, knowing it would waste two perfectly good cylinders per LPU. Each cylinder that was improperly installed in an LPU had to be unscrewed and tossed on the floor, shooting all over the place like a corkscrewing balloon while turning ice cold from the sudden expansion of compressed gas.
Considering all the LPUs we packed and a rough guess that each CO2 cylinder cost about $10, we’re talking hundreds of dollars of wasted taxpayer money. It would’ve been far better to each waste a pair of cylinders by doing a quality control test after packing just a pair or two of the LPUs rather than the way we did it.
Yep, they all need to be packed
So for those of you that dutifully paid your taxes back in the 2003/2004 timeframe, I’m sorry I wasted some of your hard-earned money. The Government is funded by the people, and you deserve better than that. I wish I’d known to correct the mistake sooner! It’s been almost 20 years since I’ve been around LPUs, but that lesson has taught me to keep an eye out for ways to head off the wasteful use of resources (even if it’s as simple as making my kids finish the food on their plates before they can be excused).
The Christmas season is in full swing. While Christ is, of course, supposed to be front and center, the season has come to be characterized by shopping, hustle and bustle, extra parties, and Christmas carols.
Imagine if, right about now, less than two weeks away from Christmas, you departed for Basic Training?
That’s what I did when I joined. I left for Air Force Basic about 10 days before Christmas. You can imagine how fun the holiday was that year. We didn’t have any decorations or Christmas trees or anything like that, but we were given the opportunity to go to a couple of extra church services.
Part of the services involved singing Christmas carols, which is a nice thought. It turns out that some sadistic weirdo decided to add “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” to the song lineup for those services. For those of you that may not be familiar, the lyrics talk about how wonderful it is to be home for Christmas, and that the people back home can count on the singer(s) being home in time for the celebration. It then abruptly changes direction and decides that, well, it’s looking like it’s not going to be possible to get home in time, so “I’ll be home for Christmas…if only in my dreams.”
What kind of demented sicko adds that to the song lineup to poke at a bunch of miserable, homesick people in the days leading up to Christmas? Somebody who didn’t get enough hugs as a child, that’s who. Parents…hug your kids!
But anyway, to you military folks, you make lots of sacrifices for us all, and we often lose sight of that. We know it’s not always possible for you to be home for holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, or other special occasions. Thanks to all of you for raising your right hand and for doing whatever Uncle Sam asks of you in order to keep us free to celebrate our freedoms. I hope you have a great Christmas wherever you are. You are appreciated!
Sometime in the spring/summer of 2008, my first-time-pregnant wife came to my place of work to attend a ceremony celebrating the promotion of several people, including me.
Since being pregnant was a new thing for her, there was still a lot she didn’t know about how pregnancy would affect her body. The ceremony was to be held in a conference room that was already in use by someone else, so a crowd of us began gathering outside the door as the start time drew near. There was no place to sit while we were waiting, and my wife started feeling very hot and a little woozy. She told me something felt very wrong, and I was able to be right there to catch her as she fainted.
I was ready to ditch the ceremony and take her to the hospital, not knowing what was wrong. A gentle, but decisive old Master Sergeant made his way to us and helped revive my wife. Finding out she was pregnant, he disappeared somewhere else in the building for a few minutes, then returned with a piece of cake on a paper plate. He knew from experience that a mother-to-be’s body has an important relationship with blood sugar, and that skipping meals has a different set of consequences than when not pregnant.
Skip ahead about 14 years. A couple weeks ago our family took a trip to a beach town I’ve been visiting on and off since I was a kid. Part of the draw for that little town is a bakery that produces some great “I’ll eat better when I’m back home” food. My wife, our three kids, and I were milling around inside, each of us choosing something for that morning. The place had a number of customers waiting their turn, and our turn finally came. While my wife was in the middle of placing our family’s order, a man’s voice called out “can somebody dial 911?!” I looked over to see a man holding an unconscious woman, seated in a chair at a table near the window, preventing her from falling over. Her head was bent at an awkward angle, her hair completely covering her face.
I reached for my phone, only to discover that I didn’t have it on me. (I’m on vacation, at the bakery. If you call me here, I’m not answering it.) Both my wife and one of the bakery staff placed the call. I went over and tried to see how I could help. In talking to him, I learned that she was a couple of months pregnant, and I passed the info along to those on the phone with the dispatchers. Though he was obviously well-intentioned, it became pretty apparent that the guy didn’t have a clue what to do. I told him that we needed to get her lowered to the floor. Protective of his girl, and not really willing to comply until he determined that I wasn’t some sort of con man, he asked “are you a doctor or something?”
Now, I’m no doctor. I haven’t been certified in CPR or first aid in over 20 years. A few thoughts flashed through my head, memories of things I could tell him about, and I almost flipped out on the guy about whether or not he was seriously asking me this question while this woman, for all I knew, was choking to death on a bear claw while he tried to establish my credentials. Instead I answered something like “I know a thing or two about this. We need to make sure her airway is clear, and I can’t do it when she’s like this.”
That seemed enough to satisfy him, and the two of us lowered her to the ground so she was seated with her legs out in front of her. Before we could lay her down all the way, she started coming around. The fella held her steady as she groggily started piecing together what happened. During the course of talking with her, it came out that she had skipped having any food so far that morning. At only two months pregnant with a first-time pregnancy, it was still early enough that you’re still kind of finding out the hard way what you can and can’t do. This all started feeling a lot more familiar to me. The bakery worker that had called 911, who I suspect had been through at least one pregnancy of her own, came over and offered an unopened bottle of orange juice. My wife now off the phone with 911, she, too, made the connection, and began telling about her experience 14 years prior.
We spent some time trying to help her not feel so embarrassed, sitting on the bakery floor with everyone staring at her. Right about then I saw a police vehicle arrive and the officer grab a pair of medical bags out of the trunk. Holding the door open for him and seeing that the professional was now on the scene, I turned my attention back to what we’d been doing. My kiddos, on their own, had moved to a part of the store where they’d be out of everyone’s way, and stood quietly waiting for things to play out. It was one of those “Jesus looked at them and loved them” kind of moments.
When our family left the bakery, those two were still being attended to by the police officer. Later that day though, we saw them walking around the town, so things must’ve turned out alright for them.
You’ve almost certainly heard before that God prepares you for the things He places in your path. Sometimes it’s funny how He does it. I certainly didn’t consider my wife’s fainting as a preparatory action, at least at the time. Who knows? Maybe in another 14 years, those two (by that time) well-experienced parents will be helping out another set of parents-to-be.
It’s also important not to get caught up in a “I’m not qualified” mindset (at least for the important things). Sure, we were qualified to call 911. We weren’t really “qualified” for any sort of medical care, but we were the ones to step forward and be there with someone that was going through something scary. It doesn’t take any special training. Often we focus more on the reasons why we shouldn’t step forward than on the reasons we should. If you’ll allow me to push the metaphor a little, I’d say that if you wait until you consider yourself “ready” to jump in and follow God’s call, you’re probably not ever going to do it. God’s strength is made perfect in our weakness, and He wants us to have willing hearts more than properly trained and educated minds. He’s given you different experiences, giftings, and abilities that are intended to be used. Please…use them.
Lord, thank you that this event didn’t seem to be anything serious. Thank you also that You put someone there to help those two get through it. Thank you still that You invited us to be a few of those “someones.” And finally, thank you for all the opportunities You’ll give everyone reading this to be a part of the story You’ve written for their lives; please give us all the courage and preparation we’ll need for those times. In Your name I ask, Amen.
Hiding on Grandma’s couch is one of the only things this camo pattern’s good for
Right after Basic Training I got shuttled off to another section of Lackland Air Force Base near San Antonio, TX. It was here I began the long road to become an instructor for Survival, Evasion, Resistance, & Escape, or SERE.
Of course, right after Basic, you’re not much good for anything aside from doing what you’re told. It’s nothing personal…you just don’t know anything yet. You have to hang around for awhile and learn how things are done (sadly, the thing that makes the most sense isn’t commonly done). Our first week or so after arriving at SERE was spent doing what we call “in-processing,” which in our case consisted of some paperwork and sitting around listening to lots of briefings. We didn’t interact with the SERE instructors during that week other than to say “hi, we’re here;” we did our in-processing en masse with administrative troops that did it full time.
One day, probably the week after we finished all our in-processing, I think our instructors had some stuff they had to take care of at the school building, so they sent us back to our dorms to do our details…where we cleaned up and were supposed to make the place shine. One thing that’s important to understand…this was in early 2004; we were in the midst of two wars and the military infrastructure to support them was crying uncle in some places. Rumor had it that the dorms we were staying in had been condemned, but had been pressed back into service for the war effort. We could do our details for weeks, but it was only going to make the place look so nice, you know? Sending students to do details in the dorms was just a way of keeping them out of our instructors’ closely cropped hair for awhile.
Now I was still pretty new to this, but apparently we didn’t get sent back to the dorms to do details very often, and when we did, it was seen as a great opportunity to goof off. The training was pretty intense, so having some free time was a nice thing to have, because we were all wound up pretty tight.
I guess I happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. One of the more senior students pointed at me and said “You, you’re on Sergeant watch.” He sat me by a window where I could see the main entrance to our building. If I saw anybody that wasn’t a student approaching the entrance, especially any of the SERE instructors, I was supposed to raise the alarm.
I have no idea what everyone else was doing, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t what we were supposed to be doing. If one of our instructors had snuck in the back door and caught us, we would have paid pretty dearly for it. I was still young enough in my Air Force career not to know it, but punishment through physical exercise was something you come to embrace in SERE Indoctrination. Uniform look like garbage? Get down and start doing flutter kicks. Is your hair too long? That’s a set of pushups for each hair that’s touching one of your ears. Suffer an egregious lapse in judgment during the weekend? Heaven help you.
After staring hard out the window for awhile, one of our SERE instructors rounded the corner of the building, heading toward our door. I was still so new that I didn’t even know the guy’s name. “It’s Sergeant…one of the sergeants is walking up the path!”
One of the more senior students rushed to the window to get a better look, and sure enough, he saw Joe walking toward the front door. With a muttered curse, he ran out of the room and down the hallway, letting everyone know they needed to look busy…now. About 10 seconds later, guys were mopping the halls, vacuuming the Day Room, washing windows, dusting stuff that didn’t have a speck of dust on it, and scrubbing stuff you never even thought about scrubbing.
Joe wasn’t a sadistic dude, but if he had caught us goofing off, he would have dropped the hammer on us! It would have been one of those “everybody do pushups until I get tired” moments. Then after hearing us struggle for awhile he would have said “are you getting tired?” When we said yes, he would have said “okay, roll over on your backs and start doing flutter kicks.”
I wouldn’t say we performed our duty in an honorable way that day, but it provides a different bit of context to a famous Bible verse about being watchful. First Peter 5:8 says Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.
I don’t think Joe came there to try to catch us doing something we weren’t supposed to be doing. He was probably just coming to the dorms to say “okay, we’re ready for you to come back now,” but if he had seen what we were actually doing, you can bet he would have devoured every last one of us. Whether he was intentionally trying to catch us or if he caught us as targets of opportunity, the result would have been the same: we’d be toast.
The devil is the same way. Constantly on the prowl, he’s looking for believers to devour. I don’t think he bothers too much with nonbelievers…he already owns them, so why would he waste effort on them? He’s looking for enemies to pick off. Sometimes he’s targeting a firmly planted Christian through an ongoing campaign against them, and other times he comes across a Christian that’s teetering on the edge of something they’re not supposed to be doing. If he sees that, he’ll put his campaign on pause and pounce on the target of opportunity. Enticing that believer to sin enables a whole host of tools that can be used against them to cripple their effectiveness as the hands and feet of God (guilt, shame, desensitizing of sin, fear, doubt, follow-on consequences, etc.).
Therefore, as Peter says, be on your guard and on high alert, because your enemy’s looking for an opening where he can nail you. Don’t give him the opportunity.
After I passed the SERE Indoctrination course in Texas, the Air Force moved my fellow course graduates and I up to Fairchild Air Force Base in eastern Washington state. Fairchild AFB is the site of the Air Force’s main survival school.
In some ways the environment was more relaxed. The screening course was about two weeks long, but the upcoming course was six months long. With such a lengthy course that starts only twice a year, if you missed the start of one class, you could be waiting around for awhile before the next class began.
While waiting we had various tasks and activities to perform. We’d work out together in the mornings five days a week, with every Monday being a PT test that the rest of the Air Force only did once or twice a year. On Monday afternoons we’d do a 7-mile timed ruck march. The other afternoons during the week usually involved some sort of training in a section of the base where we could practice using an ax to fell trees or split wood, perform other firecraft training, or practice building shelters. Another afternoon was usually spent cleaning a particular building, repairing equipment, or prepping and resupplying stuff we’d used previously. Every now and then we’d spend a few overnights out in the forest somewhere, learning to use the skills and tricks we’d picked up.
One of the cool things we regularly got to do was grab our loaded rucks and pile into a bus and we’d get driven to state parks or national forests or some kind of wilderness that was open to public use, and we’d go on 10+ mile hikes to help prepare our bodies for the upcoming training. The only real rules given to us were that we had to carry a decent weight in our packs, we had to bring water, and we had to wear the boots we’d use in training, but aside from the boots we could wear whatever we wanted. It was a relaxed version of intense training and we’d get to apply more things we’d learned along the way.
About this time of year, April or May, we went for one of these hikes up in the mountains somewhere. There was still a lot of snow on the ground, but it was warm enough that the snowpack was melting.
Someone tell that goober that his survival vest doesn’t go with that outfit
We came to one spot where some small evergreens were sticking out of the snow. As we walked through the patch of trees, a few guys started sinking waist-deep into the snow. It was a total surprise to me. I had no clue what was going on…it almost seemed like some kind of snow shark was swimming around underneath us or something, picking us off one by one.
It turns out that during the winter, as the snow fell, the evergreens acted like umbrellas. The snow piled up around the outside of the trees, but near the trunk a snowless void remained. Weeks or months later when some unsuspecting Air Force students came walking along and got too close to the trees, the snow shifted underneath them and started to swallow them up. Though the trees looked small, their full height was hidden from view. In this picture, Carl walked right between two trees growing close together, and after sinking into the snow he had to get a hand up. The surface he had been walking on, despite its appearance, was not as solid as what he had imagined it to be.
Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor. For if either of them falls, the one will lift up his companion. But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up. -Ecclesiastes 4:9-10
We live in strange times. Up is down, black is white, right is wrong, and wrong is right. The snow that humanity stands on is shifting around us, leaving us in a state of confusion with unsteady footing. As the world goes off in search of today’s version of a moral compass (and gets ready to change it tomorrow), build your life not on the shifting footing of the world’s ideology, but on the firm foundation of Jesus Christ, which does not change.
“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.”-Matthew 7:24-27
