Thoughts on Strivings and Failures

     I am often most fascinated by what motivates people to do the things they do. In particular, I enjoy seeing others find their true gifts and put them into action. I have a few obvious examples of this in my life and I'll mention the three that pop into my head first. One of those people is my husband. Aaron. 

     Aaron possesses a nearly mystical ability to communicate with people from all over the world, despite all linguistic and cultural barriers that be. On multiple occasions, he has scored us free lunches from Arabic-speaking restaurant owners. In Murfreesboro, we rarely had to pay for the world's best burger due to Aaron's facility in shouting Kurdish greetings at them. His latest trick was performed here in Afghanistan when he left the house for two hours only to return with a beautiful antique, hand-woven rug, three cups of tea in his belly and a successful hour and a half conversation with the carpet dealer who spoke nothing but Dari. Aaron shared many stories with me about this man's history and family. When I asked Aaron how in the world he understood so much with someone whose language he can't speak, he simply replied, "I don't know, I just listen." Since then, he has managed to arrange taxi rides, communicate with our chaoki dor (or door guard) and make the local shopkeeper laugh. I am continuously baffled by my husband's ability to communicate in multiple foreign languages and get results. The most unique part about his ability however is not the impressive nature of it, but the way in which he embraces the differences in human beings as beautiful and exhilarating, how firmly he believes that everyone is worth talking to and how little he is concerned with how he appears during these transactions.

     My older sister, Emily, is the other highly motivated individual who comes to mind. Ever since I've known her, which has been 25 years to date, she is always creating. I am convinced that she has no limits on how much she can accomplish in one day. Her aim is focused and efficient. She is an artist to the core. Her eye is not only preoccupied with detail, but also with a sort of supernatural power that magically poofs things into existence. I've often wondered if she possesses a small wand. Just the other day I was looking at pictures she posted on Facebook of her house. She has a newborn baby and so far she's re-decorated her house, completed a handful of professional family photo sessions, threw a New Years Eve party and now she's headed back to a full-time teaching job. This is a slow month for her. The truth is that Emily knows what she's good at and she does it. She makes life a beautiful place for us all with the work of her hands. 

     The third person made her gifts known to me today in my English class. What she said to me is the inspiration for this post. I had a fifteen minute discussion on the toeshacks (the cushion things we sit on here) with my level one class about women having careers in Afghanistan. I opened up the floor for discussion and some of the girls were bursting at the seams to share their opinions. I've never been in a classroom like this before. Ever. These girls have so much energy to learn. They never look bored or tired and this is their holiday; they just finished exams for gosh sakes. I am slightly overwhelmed by their fixated attention on me. Every single one of them is a sponge, soaking up as much as they possibly can. They are all quick, engaged and participatory. There is an air of self-confidence and strength when I walk in the room. Even the girls who are shy have a sort of serenity and assurance about themselves that is disarming and yes, enviable. I wish I was this way as a high school student. Who knows what I could have accomplished by now with that kind of confidence! This is why my teaching experience here is so rich. I feel like I'm getting the finest dark chocolate instead of a Snicker's bar. I have to admit that the majority of my classroom experiences have been the exact opposite of this. I am trailing off on a tangent here, but these students are truly remarkable, every teacher's dream. It's like the time when I found a $100 bill on the street outside of my house. It literally happened across my path with no effort on my part.

     As the discussion hour with the girls came to a close, I was almost to the point of tears. I looked around and saw all of these glowing faces staring at me with an honesty that broke me. Their words were worth one thousand gifts, yes, but the looks on their faces meant so much more. They have every ounce of motivation we could ever wish for and yet so many of them have no way to be who they want to be and do what they so deeply want to do. Its like watching the guy with the prosthetic leg climb Mount Everest. It's almost beyond us to understand why you would try this in the first place when all odds are stacked against you, but it's phenomenal, it's superhuman. As I packed up my things to leave, Banafsha, who's 17, walked up to my desk. She said that today's talk was the best discussion she's ever been a part of. "This is what I love", she said to me. She pulled out pictures to show me of her father and uncle and all of the great things they've done. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said, "I'm going to be unique. I'm going to do what no woman has ever done in this country. I want to be something great." 

     I am blessed to be in the presence of so much greatness. The best part about all of these gifts is the realization that they are just reflections of something even more magnificent. As much as I've idolized human beings, I've been just as equally disappointed. I'm afraid that I would be eternally frustrated at our capacity to screw up just as much as we succeed if I didn't understand something beyond human capacity. At the height of our greatness, therein lies our greatest necessity. Mine is the need for my Maker, who knit me in my mother's womb. The need to be known above what we know and what we can do for ourselves and even others. That moment I mentioned before when I looked up and the girls were washed in honesty like I've never seen before. I felt as if they needed something beyond what they could muster up for themselves. Until you stare in the face of real neediness, you don't understand how much we can't fix on our own.  I can't fill that need because I am wrought with the same disability. In these moments though I can rest. We have something and then again nothing to do with our greatness. We emit beauty and make discoveries that can mean nothing and then again mean everything. We are but pieces of a tapestry woven before the sands of time. May we never stop trying to mean something in all that we do.