Broadsheet

Since we both arrived in Iraq nine months ago, R. Has had missiles fired at him in both airplanes and helicopters. We have both been as close as two city blocks from rocket and mortar explosions. In one case, R. Was a corridor away from a rocket blast in the Palace where we work. I was in a road ambush and nearly kidnapped.

I thought that perhaps going to Baghdad would be a life-changing experience. I'd always wanted to ask people who'd been in dangerous circumstances how the experience had changed them. But quivering on the floor in a flak jacket and helmet over a housedress is really about as mundane, unattractive, and insignificant as it gets. Frankly, all that Baghdad has taught me is what I'd suspected all along, that it is devotion, not circumstances, which has an impact on my faith. Faith influences my response to circumstances, rather than circumstances influencing my faith.

Baghdad is no different than Abu Dhabi or Tokyo or Topeka, Kansas. The temptation comes in sneaky ways: at the checkpoint when you're bored and irritable, at the office...All the usual daily frustrations.

One would think that frequent reminders of one's own mortality would alleviate pettiness, but how about skipping a memorial service because of irritation at seating priorities and having to stand in the sun too long on your half day off that week? How about impatience at the reservist moving too slowly down the corridor in front of you because he's laden with his usual 50 pounds of gear and has been in 130 degree heat for the last four hours while you've been in your air conditioned office? How about resentment against an Iraqi employee crying in the corridor because her family's been threatened again, and you're late to a meeting, and really don't have time for this stuff?

The real lesson of Baghdad for me is that the real heroes are those who stick it out for the long haul, doing this to serve their faith, not for themselves.

And that's people like you.

Thank you for your prayers and your support. God bless you.