of diapers and documentaries

As I prepare for my next job, I am painfully aware that I have a lot of catching up to do: all the reading I've been doing about eco-parenting, infant pottying, child development and breastfeeding is wonderful, but it won't help me during my deployment to Afghanistan. Lately, I return home completely fried from working through lunches, endless reading and analysis, and the last thing I want to do is read anything. All I can say is: praise the Lord for the digital age.

My burgeoning Audible account is primed with audiobooks on the region for my daily commute and imminent roadtrips, and this helps me gain the needed momentum to tackle the stack of physical books I have amassed at home. It will be a miracle if I ever finish all of them, despite my customary bibliophilia. Another outlet for research on tired evenings after baby is in bed, collapsed on the couch with a plate of hot supper my husband has made and the laundry for me to fold, is our instant DVD queue. While the minimal selection for my area of interest makes me wary of biases my film sample might contain, I watch documentaries serially for perspective on what Afghans think, the balance of power in Asia and the Middle East, and the Global War on Terror. Even exploring Wild China can heighten my geopolitical awareness.  The documentaries and storytelling movies currently on my list?

National Geographic's Talibanistan
PBS's Motherland Afghanistan
Restrepo
Brave New Foundation's Rethink Afghanistan
Camp Victory, Afghanistan
PBS Frontline's Obama's War
PBS Frontline's Bush's War
PBS Frontline's Rules of Engagement
Kabul Transit
Behind Taliban Lines
Afghan Star: The Documentary
No One Knows About Persian Cats
Operation Homecoming 
The Kite Runner
The Stoning of Soraya M.
Persepolis

Please let me know if I have missed anything. I am sure there are many more of these out there to be discovered. In the meantime, I spend my evenings folding laundry and watching the documentaries I can find on Netflix. It is an odd pastime, but one that increasingly gets my mind prepared for the months ahead.

The more I watch, the more I am forced to recall how fallen our world is. I watch Motherland Afghanistan and I weep with a mother who has just lost twin babies several weeks apart for lack of neonatal intensive care equipment, proper nutrition and sanitation. As the light goes out of the obstetrician's eyes, I cry like it is my daughter I have just lost. I watch Restrepo and I put myself in the shoes of a dedicated, but culturally naive company commander whose lack of historical knowledge about the battlespace undermines his sincere efforts to fight insurgents in the Korengal Valley. I can taste the sweat and dust, my face heats up with frustration. I watch the swelling ranks of Afghan Star viewers cheer and vote for their favorite singer, even though I have only watched two episodes of American Idol and its spinoffs in my entire life. I feel the first-time thrill of democracy: texting my vote from a low-cost cell phone. I watch the story of a wealthy Pashtuni boy and his family's Hazara servant unfold through the flying of kites. It stings my eight-year-old self, way back on the playground, when the boys' friendship is threatened by violence and intolerance. I watch Soraya M. martyred by her husband's slander, and shudder as the village becomes party to his lustful pursuits of a girl half his age. I hear electric strains of underground music from Iranian musicians and I smile and think, rock on. My dinner churns in my stomach as I weigh the claims of Brave New Foundation that our actions in Afghanistan have not made the region more stable or the United States more secure from terrorism. I wonder what the history books will say about Operation Enduring Freedom at the end of my life...and after.

What C.S. Lewis famously wrote about reading great literature in his Experiment in Criticism is true of watching a good documentary for me: "...I become a thousand men and yet remain myself...I see with a myriad of eyes, but it is still I who see." The ancient Greek playwrights would nod approvingly at my cathartic moments in watching the human drama unfold. Vague awareness that these things occur and recalling them to mind everyday are two different things, and even when I allow myself to forget about all the suffering and evil in the world, the prophet Jeremiah  (chapter 17) reminds me,

⁹ “The heart is more deceitful than all else
And is desperately sick; 
Who can understand it?
¹⁰ “I, the LORD, search the heart, I test the mind,
Even to give to each man according to his ways,
According to the results of his deeds. 

I pray that I will not be complicit in deceit or injustice. I pray for the fortitude and honesty to bear these secondhand experiences intelligently, and without being slavish to my own biases. I pray for spiritual insight beyond the purview of analysis. I am not sure how anyone can be certain of what the ground truth is in any human endeavor--especially a war against an insurgency--yet I hope for wisdom. St. Paul reminds me in 1 Corinthians 2:

¹¹ For who among men knows the thoughts of a man except the spirit of the man which is in him? Even so the thoughts of God no one knows except the Spirit of God. ¹² Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may know the things freely given to us by God, ¹³ which things we also speak, not in words taught by human wisdom, but in those taught by the Spirit, combining spiritual thoughts with spiritual words. ¹⁴ But a natural man does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him; and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually appraised. ¹⁵ But he who is spiritual appraises all things, yet he himself is appraised by no one. ¹⁶ For WHO HAS KNOWN THE MIND OF THE LORD, THAT HE WILL INSTRUCT HIM? But we have the mind of Christ."

I fold diapers, I take deep breaths, and I watch. I pray to have the mind of Christ.