Sometimes my cynicism feels to me like a comfortable old hat that I just
can't give up. I suppose that comes with the frustrations of working in a
culture that is vastly different from one's own. We suffer long dry spells
during which nothing productive, encouraging, or uplifting seems to be on the
agenda. Whining and complaining become the most convenient response whenever our
efforts encounter the least resistance. The most common advice given to eager
'newbies' is, "Forget about that, it just won't work." There are lots of
variations on this theme, but they all spring from a sort of annoyed acceptance
that most of what we do seems to produce no useful effect at all. However, God's
grace being the wonderful and unpredictable thing that it is, once in a while he
sits right smack on my hat. This time he squashed it flat.We have a friend named Nancy Sullivan. She is a New York University trained anthropologist who has lived in Papua New Guinea for twelve years. A lot of us here have some sort of adoptive family relationship with local people. Nancy had such a relationship with a Sepik River family. When she was burglarized during a stint of research work in the highlands, she sent word to the family to send one of the sons, Kristian, to help out as her bodyguard. Kristian, having been nearly blind since childhood, might not have seemed a likely candidate for the job, but his devotion to 'auntie' Nancy compensated for his poor eyesight.
As a young boy, he lost use of his left eye in an accident and most sight in his right eye when an infection scarred his cornea at about age twelve. His world was seen by him only as misty light and dark shadows.
When Nancy told us that she was planning to take Kristian to the USA for eye surgery, my cynicism pounced on new prey. I could think of dozens of perfectly logical explanations why this crazy plan was just never going to work out. Over a period of months we heard reports of the drip-drip-drip of the money bucket slowly filling. Major money worries such as surgeon's and clinic fees suddenly vanished as months of Nancy's email campaigning began to show victories here and there. The Cornea Research Foundation of America, in Indianapolis, Indiana notified that it would help. Ophthalmologists Francis Price and Scott Wagenberg offered their services pro bono. The Central Florida Eye Bank said it would provide the donor cornea without charge. Another charitable resource offered to purchase airline tickets.
Then things started getting genuinely weird. While acting as a tour director at the Karawari Lodge, Nancy met Patrick Tynan, an Indianapolis financial consultant. On hearing of the project, he and several friends decided to spring for Nancy's and Kristian's expenses while staying in Indianapolis.
During a trip on the Sepik River as cruise director on the Melanesian Discoverer, I went crazy buying story boards (giant sections of rough wood with 'picture stories' carved on them). Every good one I saw, I just had to have, and the bigger the better. When they were all back on the ship, I had a panic attack thinking about how Eunice was going to react. I'd spent about K500 to buy five giant storyboards, and even the smallest ones would not fit into our house without major planning. The words, "What were you thinking?" kept flying through my mind. When I got back to Madang, the idea of knocking off multiple birds with one stone occurred to me.
Another friend, Daniel Cassell, manages the Madang Lodge, a local hotel owned by his family. I called Daniel and offered to sell him the three biggest storyboards for display in the hotel. I told him about Nancy's project and asked him if he'd be willing to pay K1000 for the three storyboards. He agreed to write the check to Nancy for expenses, and my contribution would be the amount I paid for three storyboards. Everybody wins; everybody's happy. I just love it when things work out that way. The remaining two storyboards are now major attractions in our living room. By this time, it was beginning to look like all roads led to Indianapolis.
So that is how we end up with
this: Some guy standing out in a snowstorm. You'd never guess: (1)
he's nearly blind, (2) at the age of 19, he just had his first ever airplane
ride half way around the world, (3) he's never experienced snow before, (4) he's
from deep in the rain forest in a country that most people couldn't even tell
you in what part of the world it lies, and (5) he's about to endure the most
terrifying experience of his life. Just looks like some guy standing out in the
snow, doesn't he?Truth was, Kristian could very possibly have lost what little eyesight he had left if the operation did not go well. He was made aware of this and, despite all the efforts of everybody who made it possible for him to be there, he was the one who was taking the giant risk. The night before the operation, he was very near to backing out.
The operation itself
went well, considering the condition of the damaged eye. Dr. Price (of the
Whitson Vision Group), shown here with Kristian after the surgery, said that the
cornea was much thinner than normal and required some modifications to the usual
technique for transplantation. He estimated, immediately after the surgery, that
chances were about 75% that Kristian would recover full use of the
eye.There was, of course, the traditional 'made for TV' moment when Mary Adams, an ophthalmic technician waved her hand in front of Kristian's face after removing the bandage and asked, "Can you see my fingers?" Kristian answered (correctly), "Two!"
Arriving in Los Angeles for a few week's stay to allow Kristian to
continue recuperation in a more hospitable climate, he experienced his '15
minutes of fame.' National Public Radio got wind of the story and Kristian was a
guest on Ebony 2000, a talk show hosted by Gerda Govine. It's impossible for us
to imagine the stress that Kristian experienced during this time. For a shy
young man from a small sleepy village to be suddenly transported to Los Angeles
for a few weeks would be stressful enough. Adding the difficulties of dealing
with the visual and mental confusion of regaining a lost sense was asking
Kristian to deal with just about everything he could handle at one
time.A major concern was that all the positive results so far could be undone in a matter of hours if post-operative care was inadequate. Enter yet another professional who volunteered services. In Los Angeles, Dr. Kristin Nesburn offered to look after Kristian's eye to make sure that it was healing properly and that the special medicines being used to protect and promote healing were doing their jobs.
Kristian is back in Madang now, and the healing process is nearly complete. Soon, Nancy will accompany him to the local pharmacy where he will be able to find reading glasses that will correct any remaining defects enough so that he can begin to work once again at learning to read. Kristian's prospects for the future are sad from our perspective, since he is a citizen of a country with many woes. His people should be much better off than they are, because the land is rich with natural resources. But Papua New Guinea has not escaped the seemingly predestined slide into economic ruin and near anarchy that greets underdeveloped nations newly emerging from colonial rule. Lest my cynicism overtake my brief optimism, let me say that I believe his prospects are vastly improved by the unlikely chain of events that led to the restoration of his vision.
One of the cool effects of big nice results coming about when good people are trying to accomplish good things is that, at least for a while, it makes me more aware of little things that are happening constantly as a result of the continuous, non-heroic, boring, and seemingly futile daily grind in which we all participate. I once again look up to the sky after the rain perhaps to catch a rainbow. I try a little harder. I care a bit more.
Another, more profound effect has been to reawaken my awareness that we all live in God's world. Not all of us are aware of that. Not all of us believe it. But God's plans include us all, nevertheless. I don't know how many of the people involved in helping to restore Kristian's vision call themselves Christians - fact is, I've never met most of them. I do know that some of them are not believers. My feeling is that this thing was allowed by God to happen. It's just too unlikely otherwise. I'm spiritually refreshed and revitalized by the object lesson presented to me. Just as God, in his administration of this physical world, allows believers and non-believers alike to equally partake of the fruits and pleasures of life and also to suffer its pains and deprivations, he also gives us all equal opportunity to pursue and achieve worthy goals.
I think that, as Kristian was blind to the world, we need to blind ourselves, to a certain degree, to the faith condition of those whose motives are worthy and who wish us to cooperate with them in the accomplishment of worthy goals. Working together with others always provides opportunity for witness. Our belief should enhance our cooperation with unbelievers and not prevent it or dilute its effectiveness. Our refusal to work as equal partners in such ventures makes us seem cold, uncaring, and exposes our own motives to suspicion and ridicule. Cooperating 'with an attitude' - constantly reminding others of our holy motives - makes us seem haughty and stiff-necked. How shall we show the face of Jesus to the world?
I remember the first time I met Kristian. He was quiet, shy ... his eyes cast to the ground. Upon seeing him for the first time after his return to PNG, I was amazed at the difference. He shook my hand and smiled at me, looking directly into my eyes. I thought of Saul on the road to Damascus - his eyes being cleared by God's power so that he could see things as they really were. How Paul's life was changed by that clarification of vision! What wonderful things might be waiting for Kristian?