In 2005, I had an opportunity to hear a alumnus speak about his work with World Vision. Sigurd Hansen was, at the time, director of field operations, Pakistan, which had just suffered an intensive earthquake, leaving at least 80,000 dead, many more thousands orphaned and maimed. He and his staff faced the unimaginable task of searching for the entombed, cremating piles of corpses and ministering to every imaginable need of the survivors. Listening to him describe this terrible natural disaster and his philosophy regarding his work became, for me, one of those rare moments one hears about; when one’s world changes forever. It was a sterling example of an Oprah Winfrey statement: He and his staff tirelessly dedicated themselves “to changing this horrific situation into an heroic relief mission.” His words so moved me that I knew I could never be the same.

    I had experienced a similar moment earlier in my life when I learned that my parents had died. One moment we were in the car, driving home to Florida from my grandfather’s funeral in New York City. The next thing, darkness and silence, a conscious feeling of floating , comfortable, serene…then, in the distance, someone crying.. no, not crying, some kind of agonized screaming and wailing that I had never before heard. It was clear to me that the person needed help so I mentally tried to pull myself closer to the sound which grew louder and louder. Suddenly, the screaming became deafening and the darkness was broken by series of lights, blurring in succession over my head. I was no longer comfortable but and could feel myself being moved forward on some kind of cold, hard table? And then I realized that the screaming was coming from me. I was able to stop my voice and someone said, ”That’s it, Darlin’, just calm down. You’ve got a little broken arm that we have to fix for you…you’re doin’ good, sweetheart..just relax, this medicine will make you sleepy….” And then I was back floating in silence……

    I had just suffered a terrible natural disaster in the form of a car accident with two fatalities- my beloved parents. For years, I would dream of a tornado coming straight at me as I stood helpless in front of a bay window, replicating in some safer way, the experience of our car careening toward the trailer truck and the imminent shattering of the windshield. And now I was an orphan. The two most important and beloved people in my life would be buried without my participation and I would be expected to be resilient and grateful that I was spared. I was neither. The arm and cranial fractures would heal but there was- and is- something so broken internally- that the healing of my soul seemed possible.

    In those days, 1959, children were thought to be unable to experience depression; medical professionals thought they were flexible, able to cope with just about anything. “Coping” was, for me, more like “acting,” especially when my very survival seemed to depend upon expected behavior. I never learned to cope with this loss, experienced in my chest as crushing, in my body as bones splintered and flesh disfigured; it felt as though each cell moaned with searing pain and unbearable loneliness every moment- every breath was a living hell. I so wished I could have died instead. I hated God- think that I had been spared when my loving and brilliant parents were killed seemed viciously insulting. Even today, in moments, I still don’t know why I should get out of bed. To I bless the serendipity that put me in the audience to hear Sigurd’s presentation. Sigurd had a piece of the answer.

    No one can really know another’s pain unless they’ve experienced it. Any woman can tell you that before the birth of her first child, she has asked other moms for a description of the experience. But it’s not until you actually give birth that you know experientially what it’s like. No description does it justice. In that same vein, I know what it’s like to be orphaned. I know the depth and intensity of that horrific pain. Being one, maybe I could help one, love one, or just “be” one with someone experiencing that reality. Perhaps that was something unique that I could offer. Sigurd made reference to tens of thousands of orphans abandoned through this singular catastrophe. And there were millions more. I began researching opportunities to work with orphans both at home and internationally. I kept hearing Oprah’s words: “Take something horrific and make it heroic.” I kept imagining Sigurd and his team doing exactly that against the backdrop of one of the worst natural disasters ever. And then I realized that, on a smaller scale, that’s exactly what most orphans have to do everyday. I am no exception.

    I had done quite a bit of service work in the US already- as a foster mom, Habitat for Humanity worker, working with children affected by HIV/AIDS, food drives, clothing drives, Operation Christmas Child, Feed the Children, Smiles for Kids, The Red Cloud Children’s Project, Humane Society, Big Brothers, Big Sisters, Food for the Poor, shelters for battered women, etc.. The list went on and on. I had even tried to adopt, but after two years, I was discouraged. The general response was that I was too old, too single and too poor. By that time, I was also too tired of being rejected. And the adoption agencies probably had just cause to prefer financially well healed, intact young couples.

    None the less, after Sigurd’s presentation, I began to entertain the possibility of international volunteer opportunities serving orphaned children. Since I am approximately five years from retirement, I wondered how I could test my suitability for the work without being a burden or a curse to a sponsoring agency. Earlier in life, I had committed to various idealistic ventures only to have them turn out badly because I lacked experience. One may imagine what a particular activity is like and then, once you do it, you realize you don’t like it or aren’t even capable of doing it. Human beings, especially orphans, should not be afflicted with folks who are experimenting with a second half of life career changes. Nor do they need arrogant, self-righteous, messianic providers. I wanted to be centered and useful; a help not a hindrance. And certainly neither of the above.