She just doesn't understand: A rebuttal of Ann Coulter's August 6 column

Conservative columnist Ann Coulter's August 6, 2014 column, entitled "Ebola Doc's Condition Downgraded to 'Idiotic,'" said many misguided and downright terrible things about not only Dr. Kent Brantly, but anyone, especially Christians, who chose to work in developing countries. There have been many rebuttals to her arguments, some of which were better than others. As I have been quite irritated with the column, I wanted to throw my arguments into the ring as well.

To begin, Ann wonders how Dr. Brantly feels since, according to her, he cost Samaritan's Purse more money than the value of his services with his transport home and medical treatment. Samaritan's Purse is not a federally funded agency. It is run by donations, and I very much doubt that the majority of donors mind that some of their money is going towards to care of Dr. Brantly. It is not something he should even have to think about. 

Ms. Coulter asks what the point is of going to Africa, and asks if anyone can serve God in America anymore. Gallup.com reports that in 2012, 77% of Americans identified as Christian. If this is true, the majority of Americans are serving God in America.If it had been a mass exodus of Christians to developing countries, as Ms. Coulter implies with her question, then the numbers would be much different.

She gives some statistics about the murder rates and other horrors in America. I don't think anyone would argue that America is far from a perfect country. Evil occurs right in our backyard daily. However, I don't think that serving in a developing country is denying the work that needs to be done in America.

Ann states that Dr. Brantly could have done the world vastly more good by serving in Hollywood and affecting the American culture-makers. While Dr. Brantly could have made a great difference working in America, no doubt, I have two significant problems with her statement.

First, in 2008 there were 262 physicians per 100,000 people in the state of California. If that sounds small, consider that in 2004, both Liberia and Sierra Leone had .03 physicians per 1,000 people. That translates to three physicians per 100,000 people. This is a clear and significant gap in services. In Liberia, 83.8% of the population live on $1.25 or less per day. In Sierra Leone, 51.7% of the population live below that line. This begs the question: if the people could find a physician, could they even afford services? There is a need for volunteers like Dr. Brantly to provide medical services to those who need them.

But the more disturbing element of Coulter's argument is that affecting culture change in the US is much more important than saving lives in Africa. Genesis 1:27 says "So God created mankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them." Everyone, from the power brokers in Hollywood to the poor child dying of Ebola in Sierra Leone, is made in the image of God. Everyone has immeasurable value in God's economy. And, "whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." (Matthew 25.40). What is the point of working with people in developing countries? Everything. Every life is priceless. Who is Ann Coulter or any of us to suggest that one country or one life is more important than others?

Ms. Coulter asserts that American Christians go to work in developing countries because they are tired of fighting the American culture war. I assure you, the motivation is vastly different. Jesus asked us to go into all nations to make disciples (Matthew 28.19). Ann is right to say that this includes going out into America. She is wrong to assume that we should ignore everywhere else.

Ann says that our first loyalty is to our country, that we should "take care of our own first." But as a Christian, my first priority is to "seek first his kingdom and his righteousness." (Matthew 6:33). This isn't to say that I am not a loyal American. This isn't to say that our country doesn't need help. I am, and it does. But God sends us as he chooses. My first loyalty is to Jesus, before anything else. And I will go where he leads, whether it be somewhere in the US, to a slum in India, or to the medical tents of West Africa.

Finally, Ann says that Christians choose to serve abroad because it's "heroic." I don't think Dr. Brantly, or the majority of Christians serving abroad, do so for attention. Would we know Dr. Brantly's name had he not contracted Ebola while serving the poor in Africa? Probably not. And I think that, if given the option, he would choose to serve quietly and unknown rather than be fighting for his life. In fact, the majority of the time, when a foreign missionary gains recognition, it is because of something unfortunate, such as being killed, being imprisoned, or now, contracting a deadly illness. Most missionaries will never achieve recognition in this world, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

Ann Coulter makes some valid points, as I expressed, but she fails to recognize the real heart behind the work of Dr. Brantly and all Christian missionaries: the wild, passionate, wonderful love of Christ. And that is the most sad thing of all. 

It's been a while . . .

A lot can happen in a year. And it's been over a year since I posted on here. At first I was busy. And then so much wonderful, difficult, exciting, and complicated stuff happened that I wanted to post it but then it just stressed me out and I hid away in my apartment and did not write. But I like writing, so I am going to try to get this whole shindig started again.

I could offer up a play by play of this past year, but I think instead that I will jump back into this blog game by offering some of the lessons that I've learned in my first year as a really real occupational therapist.

1) I really don't know much. I mean, like anything. You can see all the patients with total knees or hips or shoulders you want, but none of them are quite the same as the next one, and then there will be this person with a CVA who presents in a really complicated way and BAM! Back to the textbooks. And as much as you learn in school, when it comes time to treat a REAL LIVE HUMAN, things are much less clear.

2) Older adults don't seem to have many hobbies. As an OT, I want what I do to be meaningful to my patients, but when I try to elicit that information from them they usually give me a blank stare. I know there must be a better way to figure it out. I mean, people have to spend time doing something, right? But I've yet to find that golden ticket that evokes all sorts of useful hobbies that I can incorporate into therapy for the spectacular results that our textbooks laud.

3) It's easy to get jaded. I am a practicing therapist of barely over a year, but I have found myself saying "No, that will not work." or "She will NEVER participate." and things of that nature. But I don't want to be that girl. I really admire the therapists who set high goals for the patients. The patients might fail, but they will fail if we don't try. And that is important to remember, but so easy to forget. Every person, no matter how ornery or particular they are, is worth at least trying with. And maybe, maybe they will surprise us.

4) Toileting becomes VERY normal. And that's okay. It's just weird how quickly it becomes no big deal. And it's functional!

5) Tomorrow. Because today may have been hard, and my productivity may have been bad (I try really hard! But that average . . . oh that average stays just out of reach most months.), and people may have been crabby, but tomorrow will be a new day. And maybe it will be much better. I hope so.

I have learned a lot more, but I am tired and I don't want to go all in in my first time back on the blog in over a year. Baby steps.

Light Gives Heat

Several years ago, I was reading Relevant Magazine when I stumbled across an ad for an organization called Light Gives Heat. They sold necklaces made by women in Uganda to provide sustainable employment for these women and a consistent income for their families. Although the $20 for the necklace was a bit steep for my standards back then, I forked it over, got my Classic necklace, and a love affair with Africa and Light Gives Heat was born.

The necklace that started it all, for Light Gives Heat and for me.

Over the years I've spent more money than I'm willing to admit on the various, beautiful necklaces, bracelets, and bags that this amazing company sells. It made me happy to know that not only was I getting fashion accessories that made people take notice (every time I wear a necklace of theirs I get comments), but I'm also helping out people on the other side of the world. Fashion and hope together. It's a pretty awesome thing.

It didn't hurt that it turned out that the company was based in Colorado and I knew a couple of the people who worked with them. That was a bonus, for sure, but not something I knew when I initially discovered them.

Anyways, they have made a documentary, called Moving On, which details the story of the company and the family who started it. It is a beautiful story and a beautiful film. The music on it is amazing as well.

I just wanted to encourage you all to consider Light Gives Heat when making gift purchases this holiday season. No one would complain when they get an awesome wrapped paper bead necklace in their stocking. And among the holiday glitz and commercialism, we can do something that will make a big difference. That is a beautiful thing.

Their Late Fall Looks video. It makes me want to go to there. 

So check them out! www.lightgivesheat.org

Creede

I decided to go to Creede. It’s a small town formerly known for silver mining. Now, it will be known at least a little for being one of the places that they filmed the movie The Lone Ranger, starring the ever amazing Johnny Depp as Tonto. I perused stores which displayed articles about how Johnny came in, bought crystal skulls, and signed autographs in THAT VERY STORE! Hooray!

View from the main street

Attempt at artsy shot

I love small towns

Do you see that car at the end of the row? It was crazy. Two people, several dogs, antlers, etc.

One of the first things I did when I arrived was go to the town museum. It was cheap to get into, and had many interesting artifacts from the town’s history, such as the town’s horse-drawn hearse and, naturally, a large quantity of mining equipment. On my way out, I asked the guy running the museum about the loop that one can drive around and see the old mines. He handed me a map which explained all the stops, told me it was $1.85, and then tried to sell me old pictures and get me to come to Bingo night. As I left, the guy mentioned that to go around the loop counter-clockwise would put me up against some steep hills, so I should probably take it clockwise. Ha. Yeah right Mr. Museum guy. I may be a girl, but I am one tough cookie!

Heading up the loop

More loop

Old mine

Old mines

Abandoned buildings

Old building

More stuff

Trees

Mountains. I think I took this by sticking my hand out my sunroof.

It was really pretty.

In my opinion, the hills were not that bad. They were steep, to be sure, but I’ve seen steeper. The tight canyon suddenly opened up into an amazing landscape of old mines dotting the hillsides. A stream flowed next to the road. I found myself frequently stopping to take pictures. I took my sweet time around the loop.

View from the old mine you can visit

Towards the end, I stopped by a mine that a trucker bought and opened up for people to come and buy rocks and things. It was beautiful.

Old mine building

Tourist stop

Look at who is in this picture! So cool! 

Look who is buried on the loop!

It was a really nice day!

Camping with Dad

Ever since I heard that one could camp on the Sand Dunes, I wanted to go. Bad. My dad, always one to support a good adventure and my partner in many adventures over the course of my life, caught the vision as well. I was initially discouraged due to the intense difficulty of climbing the dunes, but after Cori and my successful summiting of High Dune, I knew it could be done. Dad started training in the Springs for our adventure, and finally the weekend was upon us.

Dad picked up our park pass on his way into town while I finished up work for the week. I packed as quickly as I could, and then I led Dad on a wild goose chase trying to find Subway so we could get dinner. Eventually we found it (so close to where I live), got our food, and headed out of town.

I felt mildly panicked. The park ranger had told Dad to be back in the park by 6 because the gates close. We were cutting it close. We ate our sandwiches and chips as we drove and Dad told me about the first time he had tried salt and vinegar chips. It was a remarkably good story involving a sit-in in Canada. We reached the gates at 6:01. The ranger said, “Welcome back!” and waved us into the park.

We parked at the designated lot and put on our packs. I got to break in my huge backpacking pack. I was a little embarrassed at the size of it for just an overnight trip, but later I was able to console myself that I used pretty much everything I had packed. Dad had purchased a pair of trekking poles for me as well. I felt pretty BA. We set off towards the dunes, cutting through a large section of the Escape Dunes. It was much cooler than the section I had found on my search.

Not my favorite picture ever of me, but I felt cool at the time.

 The going was, predictably, difficult. Hiking in sand is hard enough as it is, and it is compounded by heavy packs. The trekking poles helped immensely (SEE CORI! THEY ARE USEFUL!). The air was fairly still and the sun was on our faces. We longed for a breeze. We would soon regret that.

The dry creek was looking a little weird! This wasn't mud. 

My hero

Sand

Well where should we go from here?

 As the sun started to go down, the wind picked up. A lot. And we were pretty worn out. Eventually we came across a relatively flat and somewhat (not really) sheltered area. We were about 80% sure were could came there. (You can camp anywhere on the dunes outside the day visiting zone. But this area is hard to identify in real life). We rested briefly and then set out to put up our tent.

Sunset equals WIND

Nice view from our campsite

Have you ever put up a tent in a gale force wind with sand flying into your face? It was a struggle. It was compounded by the fact that the tent would be difficult to put up on a good day due to the way the poles were laid out. We used our pack, our feet and sometimes our legs to try to keep the canvas from blowing off. At least twice, I had to chase the small bag that had held the poles, running at a full on sprint to catch it as it, not even whimsically, blew about on the dune.

Eventually we got the tent up and I climbed in to set up my sleeping bag. Suddenly I felt cold wetness running down my leg. I looked down and saw a stream of water coming from the head of the tent. I cried out, “NO! No no no no no no!” as I quickly dug through the bags to find the source of the leak. Turns out that the bite valve of my camelbak had popped off. I replaced it and then assessed the damage. There was a nice little mud puddle in the middle of the tent. We put down one of Dad’s shirts on it, and I climbed out of the tent to let the wind dry my pants.

Wet butt

Dad keeping our tent from blowing away. Note how both knees of his pants ripped out.

Dad theorized that the wind was probably due to the sunset, and once the sun was down, the wind would die down as well. After the tent dried, we climbed in to wait out the wind. We did not bring the rain fly, so sand was blowing in through the mesh holes. We hunkered down, eating trail mix and chatting.

Eventually Dad decided to call Carrie (my stepmom). The dunes actually have great cell phone service. We got a hold of her and told her about the wind. She said she’d pray that it’d stop. Literally the minute Dad hung up the phone, the wind stopped. Although it would pick up off and on throughout the night, it was never as bad as it had been. Awesome.


Fun fact: in nature, you’re supposed to bury your waste (as in, poo and such) at least six inches deep. Well at the dunes that would preserve it forever. So they asked us to just bury it an inch deep. Doing that made me feel like a cat. I imagine cats would love the Sand Dunes. They could “go” anywhere!

First one star came out. Then another. Then it was like the sky exploded. City girls like me don’t get to see the night sky unpolluted by light very often. I tend to forget how amazing it is. The Milky Way was splashed across the sky, mingling with countless other stars and galaxies. Constellations that you can’t see in the city were clearly visible. We brought out Dad’s awesome DSLR camera and attempted to take star trail pictures. I was really into that when I was younger, but I have long since forgotten the setting you put the camera on so that you can keep the shutter open as long as you want. We found settings that opened the shutter for up to about 14 seconds, but no more than that. That was just enough that you could start to make out tiny pinpricks of light in the finished photo. Nothing like the incredible expanse that we were witnessing. Eventually we stopped trying and just looked up.

I saw three shooting stars. Dad saw two. Overall, a win for a night of stargazing. I noticed pulsing lights just over the next dune. We decided that somewhere in the valley was a thunderstorm, the lightning of which we could just make out. We eventually decided to go to sleep, and I said a quick prayer that the storm wouldn’t blow our way.

The person who snores always falls asleep first. This is the rule. And it was in full effect that day. My dad fell asleep rather quickly, leaving me to contend with his occasional bouts of sawing zz’s. Fortunately, with a harsh “SHHHH!” from me or a clearing of the throat, Dad usually stops for a while. Then it’s a race for me to fall asleep before he starts up again.

Around 2 AM, we both decided that we needed our sleeping pads. Originally we thought the sand would be comfortable enough for us to not put down our pads. This was a terrible, terrible misconception. As soon as I burrowed down enough for my arms to be comfortable, I noted that all the sand was now poking my stomach. My hip flexors were burning from trying to lay on my side. At virtually the same time, Dad and I got fed up with trying. We blew up our sleep mats, and had a much better rest of the night.

With the dawn came another breeze and more sand. I pulled my scarf over my head, and slept relatively well.


 6 AM meant just enough light that we couldn’t sleep anymore. We took some pictures of the morning and our site, and then packed up. It went much smoother than getting unpacked. Then we headed back.

Ugh, gross. Morning picture. Note the TP.

Getting ready for the day!

Eventually Dad just ripped the rest of his pants right off.

We had a neighbor!

Sunrise!

I love the shadows!

This place is amazing!

Daddy! :)

I think some of these ripples look like people.

The dunes are far from dead. Hundreds of tracks, new since the evening before, littered the sand, from bug to mouse to even (we think) bear tracks! I was really excited about trying to identify what each track belonged to, which slowed down part of our hike considerably. We were exhausted from our hike the day before and from our abbreviated sleep. Each hill promised to be the last. Each hill was not. Our hearts felt sad at that point. Finally we reached that final hill and saw the most beautiful view: the car!

Are these bear tracks???

These weird little tracks were everywhere!

What are you? WHAT ARE YOU???

Dad

Trees

Camping on the dunes was amazing! It’s been far too long since I have seen a sky like that. I was honored to share that experience with one of my favorite people in the world, my dad! Thanks for the adventure, Dad! I love you!

Deer!

To the Bat Cave, Robin!

The COTA I work with knew of a cave in which there is thousands of bats. Every night around 7:30 the bats swarm out to feed, and one can watch them. We decided this would be a great option for the rehab team to do while hanging out. After work one day, we headed out.

I went with my fieldwork educator, whose name is Robin, hence the name of this post, while everyone else went with the boy PT (in case you were wondering, since I didn’t tell these folks I was going to write about them, I am going to refer to them by their job title, and since there is a boy and a girl PT, I will include their gender. Robin will from here on after be called “Boss”).

The cave was much farther away than I was envisioning. Really, everything is far away in this valley. We were heading straight into a thunderstorm. It was beautiful and wild. We could see exactly where the rain started. Then we drove into the rain. It got less fun. Much less fun.

I noticed shortly before the rain got really serious that we were passing by the UFO observatory. It’s a tiny platform and a campground in the middle of the valley. It looked a lot bigger in the pictures online.
Anyway, the rain was pounding down on our car, and then we drove into an area that had recently had a large quantity of hail. All of the cars slowed down greatly, and then Boss’ car started hydroplaning. I remember thinking, “We’re going to go in the ditch. Okay. Get ready.” Boss was able to straighten the car out at the last minute.

It took us over an hour to get to the trail head. Even at the trailhead though, the view was amazing. You could see the sun setting across the valley, reflecting off lakes and illuminating fields and trees. It really is a beautiful place.

The Valley

Girl PT and COTA

The hike wasn’t bad. We all split up into groups of two or three. I mostly walked with Boss, but I was concerned about being slow. I shouldn’t have been. We hiked up at a quick but not rushed pace. At one point, we saw COTA’s bag of sandwiches sitting next to the trail. I looked to my right, and there was her head, barely visible over the brush. It was a pit stop. I’m just thankful that the brush was there.

Old well?

 We passed a sign talking about the cave, and it mentioned how the cave is named “The Glory Hole.” I kid you not. Who named this place? I think probably a teenage boy.

The Glory Hole

Flying mammals

Boss

The Valley

Beauty!

Boy PT and Boss enjoying the view

More beauty

Sure sure.

 The view just kept getting more spectacular. As we neared The Glory Hole, there was a sign warning visitors to be quiet. With this group? Yeah, right.

They didn't say anything about controlling the adults.

Old mine

Honestly? No shame!

Those are bats!!!

We were the first people up at the entrance to The Glory Hole. We parked on a bench and people busted out food. SLP’s husband had brought extra burritos, so I got to eat one and that saved me from busting out my delicious trail mix. Conversation ranged from work topics to plant life to camping trips and what people wanted done if they ever got dementia. Others started trickling in, including a group of students from the University of Arkansas. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that many men with one long braid down the middle of their backs in one place.

As we were talking, a woman walked up and told us that she was leading a tour. The Bat Queen asked if we wanted to see a picture of a bat skeleton. We said sure, and were disappointed to find that it was really uninteresting. She was describing what the bats look like when they start to swarm when Boss said, “Like that?” Sure enough, the bats were emerging from The Glory Hole. The Bat Queen mercifully left us alone to watch the swarm (flock? Herd?)


It was a much cooler experience than I thought it would be. Most of us were silent as we watched thousands upon thousands of bats fly out of the cavern. The sound of thousands of bat wings is hard to describe. It’s like a whirring. Every once in a while, you could hear the bats’ sonar squeaking. They formed an undulating, black, streaming cloud over our heads and spiraling down into the valley.

It stopped once for a few minutes and then the second group came out. It was very, very cool. After the stream became a trickle, we decided to head down. As we were leaving the old mine area, I heard Boss say “This place has great rock energy.” I decided not to ask for an explanation.

The hike down was fun. We made a myriad of Glory Hole jokes, among other things that were hilarious but I’m not going to put down here. We freaked out a young couple who hiked past us quickly, said we were funny, and then practically ran down the mountain.

Clouds

 I joined the group in male PT’s car as Boss was going to go straight home. We were having a lovely time in the car when suddenly boy PT pulled over. His car had a flat. There on the highway right by the Crestone exit, the men of the car changed the tire in nearly pitch blackness while the women of the car discussed the merits of Facebook. Girl PT and I both thought it was awesome and convenient, but we were both younger. COTA and SLP, who are both a little older, thought it was stupid. The conclusion was that they didn’t know how to use it and didn’t check it enough.

She is leaking!

COTA and SLP supervising men

Thanks gentlemen!

Although the drive was longer than I expected, the Bat Cave was really really cool. The hike was challenging enough to be interesting without making us all want to die, and it afforded wonderful views of this beautiful corner of the state. The bats were amazing. I highly recommend this if you’re in the San Luis Valley. But plan ahead: the bat migrate with their insect food source. They are here in the summer, but they move on for the fall and winter. The Glory Hole is not nearly as interesting without them. But you’d still get the views. And of course, the obvious source of jokes.