February 3
BUDDIES
“‘Is he going to be alright?’ That was the first question Joe asked when I walked up to his bed side,” Chaplain Janis Dashner wrote in her journal on March 3, 2004.
He had been watching me as I stood at the bedside of a patient directly across from him. Both of them had just come by helicopter to the CASF, and both had been injured in the same mortar attack, though they didn’t know each other. Now, a common experience bonded Joe to the guy across the aisle from him,
Joe had serious injuries to both of his legs, which were held together with pins. As he wiggled his toes, he couldn’t believe that he still had his legs. The guy in the other bed was worse. Shrapnel had torn apart his body armor and helmet. The equipment had saved his life, but a piece of shrapnel got in, up under the front of the Kevlar helmet.”
The man had undergone head surgery but was very confused. Joe was touched by the other man’s condition.
“Joe told me that they had been put in the same vehicle after the attack, but didn’t know what to do for him. Joe kept talking to him ‘Hang on buddy, we’ve got you. You’re going to be alright.’ Now, as Joe was talking to me, that life affirming declaration became a question. ‘Is he going to be alright?’” Dashner recorded.
Although she had heard similar questions over the years, she never quite got used to them. Her heart remained tender.
“I never know the answers to these questions, none of us do, not the doctors, nor nurses, nor the medical technicians who work tirelessly to save lives. God knows that answer,” Chaplain Dashner wrote.
Dashner’s experience had taught that friendship was essential in the recovery process. She focused on this truth as she concluded her journal that night.
“I know that Joe and his buddy are alive and heading to Germany tonight. I know that Joe is still watching over a friend who has been through a life-altering event with him. I know they both have a chance to live beyond these events, a chance that others do not have. I know that without a buddy like Joe it would be a hard and lonely recovery for one soldier.”
Thank you for the strength that friendship provides. Enable me to be a better friend to someone today.
“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.” (Proverbs 17:17)
February 4
ARE WE SURE?
“After much prayer, we now knew where the Lord wanted to lead us, so we accepted a position in Baghdad, Iraq,” was the sentiment if not the exact words of that astounding email my parents sent about their decision.
“Whew!” I said, sitting at my computer in my home in Houston, Texas. My two brothers and I had witnessed my parents, missionaries for twenty-six years in Honduras, daily read the word of God, pray, and diligently seek his will for their lives.
Knowing they were wholly yielded to the Lord, I could only put my faith into action as I replied to their email. I assured them I trusted God.
For years my dad had built water purification systems. In fact, he had made eighty water wells available to Hondurans, along with starting twelve Baptist churches, and establishing ninety-two mission points there. He wanted to take this system to Iraq and give people clean water to drink, build relationships with them, and ultimately share Christ with them in a friendship-way. The missionary guideline for the Muslim world is not to engage in direct pulpit evangelism but to share the Christian faith when asked about it directly and, above all, show love through service.
When my parents came through Houston on their way to Iraq, they shared this story with my Sunday School class at church. Mom had asked Dad if they were sure the only reason they were going to Iraq was because the Lord was leading them and not for any other reason. My father reassured her and offered to pray, asking God to speak to them.
They got on their knees, letting their Bible fall on their bed. It opened to Psalm 139:7–10: “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.”
And to the Elliotts, the far side of the sea meant Iraq and it was confirmation that they were indeed to go to the far side of the sea.
Lord, thank you for your promise to be with me today wherever my path may take me.
“If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.” (Psalm 139:9–10)
February 5
LIFE GIVEN IN LOVE
My parents, Larry and Jean Elliott, were killed March 15, 2004, in a drive-by shooting in Mosul, Iraq, where they were scouting sites for a water purification plant. Gunmen fired AK-47 assault weapons on their vehicle. Their coworkers, Karen Watson and David McDonnall, also died. Carrie McDonnall survived. My parents were fully aware of the dangers of Iraq and with their whole hearts they knew they were in the center of God’s will.
A young Christian Kurd, who had survived a chemical weapons attack ordered by Saddam Hussein, traveled with my parents. He noticed that Mom and Dad meticulously documented the names of each village they visited and listed ways they could help meet needs. My dad repeated, “I love this project; this is what I’ve lived my life for.”
My mom emailed me that she was determined to learn the Arabic language and then teach Dad. How she loved these people and wanted to tell them about the love of Jesus. In an email she told me she had asked their driver to share with her numerous Arabic phrases and expressions. Then she wrote them down twice phonetically and with the right spelling.
When the FBI returned their belongings to us, we discovered a sheet of paper folded up with all those words written down in her own handwriting, just as she had emailed me. It was only an 8? ? 11 inch sheet of white paper folded in two and then in two again and again. There was one bullet hole through the middle. When we unfolded it, the paper resembled one of those snowflakes that you cut out in kindergarten. One bullet had made eight holes.
This unique, bullet-created snowflake on paper decorated with handwritten Arabic phrases was such a literal example of how my parents lived their lives. They were wholly committed to sharing God’s love even at the risk of their own lives. Like that paper snowflake, their lives were unique. When their legacy is full opened in heaven, their snowflake will be something beautiful and intricate, decorated with stories of the lives they touched and the light
