too churchy

Chicken Soup

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My doctor friend needed a break. He had never been to Kenya before and to say he was overwhelmed didn’t begin to hint at his inner turmoil.  Five chiropractors from four corners of the United States had volunteered their time, all costs and expertise for two weeks.  They had been sponsored by a church organization and for “Jake” it seemed just a little too churchy. 

      They stayed in a colonial-era hotel that separated them from the locals. But each day they went to “the tent.”  A white tent, open on all sides, welcomed in all of Africa’s ailing.  At least it seemed that way to Jake. 

       “There are at least two-thousand of them.” He stated incredulously to one of the other doctors.  And he was correct, outside in the sun; beneath the pepper trees an army had appeared.  They had heard the news –free medical care by American doctors.

So they stood in the burnt brown grass waiting for their turn at the benches.  Jake used a simple wooden bench and under the head of each patient he placed two books to lift their necks – the bible and Margaret Meade’s Coming of Age.  Jake, like the other doctors, did quick assessments of the patients before him.  Then he began his adjustments.  But a few thoughts lingered… These people are really ill. Some of them suffer from more than one ailment, some are HIV positive and I’M giving them ADJUSTMENTS!  But maybe I’ll help just one. What else can I do?”  Each day he and the other worked for hours.  Once a fight broke out.  Too many needed care.

        This went on for seven days. On the last day, Jake, hammered physically and emotionally, let off some steam by wandered in the street market.  Soon he felt a tap on and turned to face a man.

        “Doctor, doctor please look at me.”

         Jake turned, “Oh, no” he thought “I can’t do any more.”

         A muscular Kenyan man faced him. “Look what you did.” The man radiated a smile.  “I don’t need my cane. I can stand straight.”

         Jake thought he recognized him, but there had been so many.

        “Doctor, I have something for you.  I have looked for you all over this town.”

He unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to Jake.   It was an old newspaper article.

        “That was me. I ran in the Olympics for Kenya.  I couldn’t stand for twenty years. Now I don’t need a cane.  Here you keep this article.  I signed it for you.”

        Jake accepted the gift and he didn’t know what to say, but he did know what to think.

 

        “Maybe it wasn’t too churchy. I asked for one and you gave me one – thanks.”