I opened the gate to the farm so my bride could drop our youngest off to turkey hunt. I stood there in the early morning darkness looking at the stars wishing I was going hunting with our youngest. As my bride drove me to the airport we talked about the future and where I was going. My old job I traveled a good bit but since I retired airports and hotels are a distant memory. I never liked getting to where I was going but once my boots hit the ground, I was content. My retirement job keeps me in the woods and the only crowds I’m in are with the trees that surround me. To some I live too isolated but for me, it seems to keep me at peace.
As I walked to the baggage claim a familiar face appeared and with that a long overdue hug. The man before me is a friend, a mentor, and a father figure. The man saw a need fifty years ago to design a plan to help others recover from emotional trauma. The man co-founded an organization called the International Critical Incident Stress Foundation. Every two years the foundation sponsors a worldwide conference to gather like-minded people who want to help others with emotional trauma. The conference is called World Congress, and this is the 17th World Congress. The man has a name but to me he is just the Good Doctor.
The Good Doctor and I come from completely different backgrounds, but our souls align when it comes to the drive to help others. As we drove into the city streets, I started to miss home. The deeper we went into the city the less trees I saw. I figured out years ago it takes all kinds to make the world spin in a positive direction but it’s hard to leave behind your roots. It’s hard to surround yourself with things that are not familiar. We checked into the hotel with what some would call a beautiful view of a harbor but to me I was a fish out of water. My old job, and my old career taught me how to be a fish out of water but to be honest it’s a memory I try to erase.
The Good Doctor designed a system called Critical Incident Stress Management (CISM). The system is used in 110 different countries and by the United Nations. It’s not rocket science but its a systematic approach to help others navigate after an emotional trauma. To me a simple man who is an instructor in CISM, it’s also about restoring hope in a situation that seems hopeless. As the conference moved forward, I felt hope leaving me. Not from the people attending the conference but from all the other people staying at the hotel. The hope was being pulled from me by the people who seemed to look past those who worked at the hotel, as if they were invisible. I received advice over thirty years ago when I visited my first major city to not make eye contact and do not talk to complete strangers. The advice seemed odd, and I did not listen.
We ate breakfast every morning on the 31st floor of the hotel. I’m pretty sure birds don’t eat that far off the ground. To some the view was amazing. The Good Doctor pointed out some trees so I would feel at home. Our rooms were on the 9th floor. God knows I’ve taken a few naps off the ground in a tree stand but not that high up.
As the days and nights rocked on, I would see these invisible people bringing food for people to eat, cleaning hotel rooms, and any other job that is in service of others. Many would not thank them, or make eye contact, or even acknowledge they were there. I sat one evening and watched and imagined this invisible man going home to his family after a day of being invisible. I cannot imagine how I would feel. The Good Doctor and I taught some classes and did some presentations, but I was off my game. I did my best to acknowledge the invisible people but clearly my well of hope was draining. I texted my bride, “I need to come home”.
The Good Doctor dropped me off at the airport and once again we hugged. I walked up to the ticket counter and asked if I could get an earlier flight home, and the lady said yes, but it will cost more money. I handed her my credit card. As I walked to my gate, I saw a large group of people in wheelchairs and walking. One man was waving an American flag and identifying the large group as veterans. It was a group of veterans being flown to our nation’s capital to see the monuments. I stood at parade rest in respect of this group. I saw others in the airport who never even looked up or acknowledge the veterans.
As the plane made its final approach to the airport, I looked out the window and saw the trees I saw desperately needed to see. I saw a swamp, farm fields, and a river. At last, I was home. As my bride walked to the bagged claim, she could tell I was running on fumes. We hugged and walked to the parking lot. As we crossed the parking lot, I looked for her Jeep or one of our trucks but did not see them. Then I saw Peaches. My brides dream car was an old convertible Mustang, but we never had the money for it. A few years ago, the boys and I managed to find one and surprised her with it. My bride named her Peaches. By no means is Peaches perfect but she goes down the road and brings a smile to my bride’s face when we say her name. My bride said, “We thought Peaches might be a nice surprise to welcome you home”.
We have learned over the years that when you drive Peaches there are those that will wave and smile, some cuss at you because you drive to slow, and others never see her, it’s just a car. As we drove Peaches home, we had all three happen. Sometimes the ones that race by or cuss wear on me but not today. I’m with my bride and we are headed home. As we pull in the driveway both boys are in the shop welding on a utility trailer, wearing their Wrangler jeans and cowboy boots. The not so puppy almost jumped up in Peaches but was soon distracted by the non-familiar smells I brought home. My bride says she has a deer meat meatloaf in the oven, and we will eat supper around the fire pit tonight. As we eat supper I looked up at the stars and thanked God for this night. With every breath I could feel my well of hope filling back up.
The next morning, I was back in the woods and for sure I was home. Here I can reflect and ponder the last week. Here there is hope. I’m not sure when we as a society started to make people invisible. I’m not sure when veterans became old people in wheelchairs. I’m not sure when a convertible Mustang became a car that was too slow. I was raised to look people in the eye and greet them. We are raising two young men in the same fashion. When we as a society greet, thank, acknowledge, touch, smile, and every other gesture that is absolutely free, it gives hope to others. The reason my well of hope was drained was because I tried my best to give hope to everyone that the world seemed to look past. My theory on life is it’s about one moment in time. Even though we would love to think our purpose is the obvious or the noble but in my mind our purpose could be acknowledging the waiter that brought you your water. If we knew our purpose here, we would excel at it and everything else would slide right by.
My roots are ingrained in the soil that I grew up on. The big city lights and concrete are not for me. As the Good Doctor and I come from different backgrounds, but its wanting to give hope to others that joins us. I restore my own hope by my time in the woods, seeing a child take a step, and knowing my written words might give others hope. I did not listen to the advice given to me some thirty years ago and I refuse to listen to this day.
Peaches is back in her spot waiting for the next trip to bring a smile to those that can see her. My suitcases are back in the closet. My dress cowboy boots, and dress belt buckle are also in the closet. I will continue to be a simple man and look people in the eyes, and yes acknowledge a stranger. It takes little effort to give hope but its strong head wind to restore hope. – Josey
For more of Josey’s stories with Dr Jeffrey Mitchell, got to https://crucialmoments.org/
To read more of Josey’s blog stories, https://theroadmapcompany.com/blog/
FInd us on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/TheRoadmapCompany/
