COURAGE IN THE FACE OF FLYING!

My long-time friend Jan displays extraordinary courage in emergency situations, but she’s deathly afraid of flying.  For seven intense years, she worked in the emergency room of a Twin Cities hospital.  Her title was health unit coordinator, but her roles involved much more.  She was the compassionate counselor to a hysterical mother whose child had just died.  Her own sadness and outpouring of emotion had to wait.  She was the tender, soothing soul to the terrified four-year old awaiting a doctor’s visit.  She was also the one who stood steadfastly firm to demanding parents.  Frequently they attempted to bypass necessary hospital rules and regulations.  Doctors were well aware of Jan’s medical knowledge and were eager to have her helping hand, even though she didn’t have a medical degree.  They knew she had a steady hand and could always be trusted.

Although my friend had no fear relating to others’ medical emergencies, her fear of flying forced odd detours in her own life.  Remembering numerous turbulent flights, she diligently sought other forms of travel.  (She’d come perilously close to flying and then . . . Rationalization set in.)

            “If you fly, you don’t get to see the countryside,” she’d say.  Train trips are a more peaceful way to travel.  There are so many interesting people on the train.”  And on it went.

Recently Jan rented a car for a seven-hour drive to Chicago, followed by an uncomfortable 21-hour train trip to New York.  The occasion was her daughter’s college graduation, but she nearly missed it.  The drive took longer than expected and it took a mad dash to the train platform to rescue the trip.  It didn’t bother Jan though.  She’s used to sprinting now, being a part-time pizza delivery driver.  The emergency room eventually took its toll. At 51 she’s the exception to anyone’s rule.  There’s rarely a neighborhood she won’t deliver to.

            “If you project fear, people sense it,” she says.  “So don’t put it out there.”

Many customers appreciate her exceptional service and care.  She’s the best pizza delivery driver in town; she also makes many of the products she delivers, including homemade natural soups, exquisite salads, and desserts.  People have often said that some of her creations belong in the finest restaurants. Additionally, she fills the role of the neighborhood nurturer while staying true to herself.  Her creative soup signs bear this out.  One sign several years ago displayed pictures of Iraqi people, young and old, as well as American soldiers.  The pointed message asked people to consider the impact of the war.  The featured soup was Red Lentil Curry, but the message went much deeper.

Perhaps Jan’s most courageous and selfless act was nurturing her sister during her final months of life, as she struggled with lung cancer.  Jan’s tender soft hands often soothed Sandy in moments of excruciating pain.  Her calm steady voice reassured her.  And Jan reminisced with her sister about times filled with laughter through the years.  One memorable moment involved their attendance at a behavioral psychologists’ meeting, where they were obvious displaced souls.  Their own behavior lacking, the two of them burst into uncontrollable laughter at meeting’s end and were virtually driven away by harsh penetrating eyes.

During the ten years I’ve known her, Jan has displayed courage and compassion in countless extraordinary ways.  She still doesn’t fly, but I’m convinced that one day she’ll conquer that challenge too.

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