The Dedication

     “You handled that new runway like the professional you are,” Marta had said.

     “It was a pleasure. We worked hard, and it paid off. I’ll try out the takeoffs, as soon as I get some of the weight out.” Steve had pointed to his plane.

     “You mean there is more?” Marta had marveled at the supplies Steve had already unloaded.

     “Just come back to the plane with me and see,” Steve had said, smiling mischievously.

     Together, Steve and Marta had walked back to the plane.

     “Do you remember when I told you I had another project to take care of?” Steve’s eyes had hardly contained his excitement.

     “Yes, I guess you got it all done. What did you need to do?”

     “Only this.” Steve had reached in and with both hands had struggled with a heavy burden. He pulled half of a canvassed object out and asked one of the men to help remove the covering. “I don’t think an airfield should be without a dedication.”

     Marta’s heart had stopped. Her sparkling eyes had blinked rapidly in an attempt to dam the welling tears. She had bitten her lip hard to stop her quivering chin, but all efforts had failed her. She had read the sign over and over again in those few seconds to capture each letter in her mind. Her tears had fallen, but her face had beamed with pride and approval.

     “Oh, thank you, Steve, thank you. It is so wonderful.”

     One of her closest friends, Numah, who had also lost a husband in the same battle as Raymond, had come to Marta’s aid. Numah did not understand the reason for the happy crying, but had known Marta needed a hug.

     “It’s okay, Numah, this is a wonderful gift from our friends in Tiom,” Marta had said.

     “I hope you like it, Marta. I took a collection up and had this made,” Steve had said.

     “It’s truly beautiful. I know the perfect place for it.”

     Together they had erected the sign reading, “RAYMOND SPRINGER MEMORIAL AIRFIELD.”

     Marta returned from her thoughts as she focused on the plaque. It looks as if it had been made yesterday. She wiped tears and memories away as she forced her mind to the present, then stooped to pull some weeds from the base of the sign and nodded with approval.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Beautiful Tarampura

     Time never stood still in the small village of Tarampura, one in a chain along the Great Baliem Valley. This was the home the ornamental Dani. Marta Springer knew her link of the chain all too well. Two years ago next month, she reminded herself, shivering at the repulsive thought. She shook her head trying to escape sadness as she set out to inspect the airfield. I want to make sure it is neat for the new guy. Viewing the landing strip so critically brought back painful memories.

“This is the best way to remember Raymond,” she had said two years before, upon return after burying her late husband. “He had always spoken of making a runway near the village. You know how slow the boats are.” She reminded Jason of the 25 miles from Tiom, forever by boat but only a few minutes by air.

Within weeks some of the pilots had traveled by boat, surveyed the area, and found a place that would be suitable for a runway. They had hired some men from the village who worked with stone axes to clear an outline of what would be a 25 foot by 1700 foot airstrip.

“I’d always wanted to land in your village. You have no idea how beautiful it looks nestled between the mountain and the Baliem River,” Steve had said as he and his crew spent the night.

“How long do you think it will take? I mean, I can’t believe this is all happening. I wish Raymond could be here to see his dream.” Marta had said.

“Raymond would be proud. Proud of the strip, and proud of your hard work. We should be done in about six months provided the weather holds out and the workers keep their interest,” Steve had said.

“I don’t think the Dani will be a hard sell for the idea of a landing strip. I think they’ll be eager to build a place where the aloof motorized birds could roost.” Marta had said of the comments Steve had made. They’d seen planes fly overhead, but had never touched nor seen one up close.

“Just look around. Men wearing nothing but gourds, taming the jungle growth with stone axes. It’s a sight for any anthropologist,” Marta had said.

“The influence of modern technology is leaving its mark. Pretty soon, they won’t remember what life without an air strip was like,” Steve had said.

Within weeks they had burned away much of the clearing. This method assisted in the hunt for scarce meat and was often used in defense as warring tribes were flushed out of any cover by an all consuming fire. When the burning and stone axes proved futile, there were always the chain saws from Tiom. The villagers loved the loud noise and display of raw power as a fueled chain whirled around chewing up any resistance. Men toiling to move mounds of dirt had the most tedious and back breaking of work. Human earth movers burdened under the weight of the soil, had traversed in monotonous patterns as they had smoothed the landing strip as much as possible.

Finally, one month ahead of schedule, the runway was complete. Marta and the excited villagers had watched as Steve’s Cessna 182 spiraled into the valley. Some of them became jumpy as the engine suddenly went quiet about a mile from the runway. “A young boy named Tucker thought it would crash, but Marta had only smiled. She knew it was part of the procedures to bleed of speed and slow the airplane enough to land.

Marta had seen Steve smiling from ear to ear as he climbed out of his aircraft. In mass, the whole village had moved down to see him, surrounding the man from the sky and touching his blue and white bird. They wondered what kind of magic made this machine soar so high. Some had tried to find out as they anticipated the chance to experience flight; they would become legendary.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

New Crutches-From Commitment-A Novel

     John taxied the plane to the opposite end of the small airstrip, turned it into the wind as he usually did, and prepared to shut down. As he reached down to grab his check list, he caught a glimpse of sudden movement from the crowd. At the same time, Digul recognized his mother and began rocking in excitement, waving his arms, and shouting. This added to the urgency of Digul’s crying mother as she bolted toward the plane.

     “John, look out!” Marta warned, at the same time waving the excited mother back.

     “Noooo!” John screamed, reaching for the throttle to still the whirling blades.

     John stared blankly as he shook off the fear. That was almost a catastrophe, he thought as his door swung open. He was not completely aware of the many hands that rubbed his arms and patted his head. He wanted to just lie back and sigh as he recovered from the shock. As he sat shaking, he saw Marta being pulled from the plane, as everyone wanted to hug her. It wasn’t until the plane started rocking as many bodies bumped against it that John become fully aware of the celebration.

     Digul’s mother cried and held Marta in thanksgiving as some men helped Digul out of the back. They stepped back aghast at the hard structure on his leg. For a long minute, the celebration came to an abrupt end. The poor kid just stood there with his head cocked to one side trying to understand. His mother began to approach him cautiously, not wanting to hurt her son, who just two days before lay on his death bed. Seeing his mother only a few yards away he tried to walk toward her, but only stumbled.

     Finally recovered from his scare, John emerged from the plane with the crutches and fell in behind Marta and the boys.

     Digul was proud of himself for being able to slowly walk to his mother. He stopped and beamed a bright smile of accomplishment. He struggled to get his arms free and held them out to his mother.

     Suddenly the spell was broken, as the mother once again rushed to her son. She held him close as the people began cheering. They understood he had recovered, and he wasn’t a ghost.

     Digul took up his crutches and followed the rest of his people to the village as the excitement wore off, leaving John and Marta alone. They stood together leaning against the plane, each enjoying the cool air blowing in from the east and swirling around them. It was quiet now and they could actually hear the breeze whispering gently over the plane. In the distance, playing monkeys caused tree tops to sway vigorously.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Pay Attention Please

  “I don’t think that poor little boy would have survived the amount of time it would’ve taken to break down that man’s defenses.” Marta fought to control her frustration.

     “I thought you were pretty amazing standing up to one of the most powerful men in the village,” said John.

     “I saw her do more things than this,” said Tucker.

     Sandy emerged from the hut. Upon seeing her, Marta ran to check on Digul.

     “Well, it doesn’t seem his condition is critical. His vital signs are weak, he has a fever, but there is no real danger. Everyone did well keeping him cooled off,” said Sandy.

     “What can I do to help? Are you going to do something for his leg?” asked Marta.

     “Of course we will fix his broken leg, but first I need a few things from you. Continue rubbing him down with water-soaked rags. I gave him some antibiotics for the infection. That, along with a good amount of water, should flush him out. His fever should break, but make sure he takes

these.” Sandy held out a small bottle of aspirin. “These are for you, but I am sure you can spare a few for the boy.”

     “I’ll make sure it all gets done. Thanks, Sandy. You were good back there.”

     “Hey, hey, I’m not finished. Don’t forget why I came in the first place. Let’s go to your hut and get started.” Sandy pointed for Marta to lead the way.

     “I hope we won’t need any shots,” Marta sighed.

     “I don’t know, you might get lucky. I haven’t been giving too many this last trip. A lot of the required series are complete,” Sandy said.

     “I can take whatever pain to stay productive and healthy,” said Marta.

     They glanced back and saw John standing alone.

     “John, you’ll have to excuse us for a few minutes, okay?” Sandy called back.

     “What has it been like flying around with John this past week?” Marta asked, while Sandy shined a powerful light in her ear.

     “Quite an experience. He is good company, a great help, and I think he is starting to fit in well.  Now open wide and say aaaah,” Sandy instructed.

     “Aaaah, I hate having a tongue depressor in my mouth. Why doesn’t anybody invent flavored ones?” Marta asked.

     “Good question. How has it been having him as your supporter?” Sandy countered.

     Marta took a deep breath as Sandy listened to her lungs through the stethoscope. “I like it. His visits are fun, I get to show him new things and he tells me about home. There is always something to talk about.” She breathed a little more deeply as she spoke of John.

      “That’s interesting,” Sandy commented while listening to Marta’s heart.

      “What? Is something wrong?”

      “No, I mean it’s interesting that you admit you enjoy his company. Are you fond of him?” Sandy asked.

     “I don’t know. I think I am, but it’s too soon to tell. Plus, I feel guilty for the mixed feelings I have for him and my duty here. I haven’t even considered a relationship with anyone since Raymond,” Marta replied.

     “I don’t think you should feel guilty about that,” Sandy said while glancing over Marta’s medical records in search of immunization history.

     “I know. But I don’t think he is the least bit concerned with beginning a relationship when all his goals seem to center around flying. I don’t think I could ever leave my work here, and we don’t have enough in common to even think about coming together,” said Marta.

     “In a few months,” Sandy answered, preoccupied with the records.

     “A few months?”

     “It says right here your last shot was this past quarter. You are good for another few months,” Sandy added cheerfully.

     “You aren’t even listening. You medical people can never see the emotional side. There is a human in this body, not just a patient to poke and prod,” Marta complained jokingly.

     “I’m sorry, I guess I was too involved in your records,” replied Sandy.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

A Brooding Man-An excerpt from Commitment-a Novel

On the shore, far behind the foam in the boat’s wake, Bart lay in the fetal position, battered, bruised, and softly whimpering. He soaked up the mud, a survivor of Angus’s fury. Bart was lucky to be alive. But he felt awful and betrayed. Angus had beaten him before, but that was Bart’s fault. He felt Angus had beaten him out of pure frustration and unjust reasons. Gone was the respect he held for his boss. In its place was a heart filled with vengeance and anger.

     Charles and Roger stood nervously by. They were afraid to intervene, knowing they could be next. If they were lucky, Angus would release all his wrath quickly and without serious injury to Bart. Now they had the job of fixing up their fallen comrade.

     Angus felt surprisingly well. Yes, he was out in the middle of nowhere, but everything would work out. He could think, and that was important. Earlier, his mind had clouded with rage and all he wanted to do was lash out. Once the surge passed, he could plan their escape from the jungle.      

     “Pick him up, boys, we have traveling to do.”

     Yes, Angus felt much better, and he was happy to have his precious cargo. Not just because of the gold he was bringing to Wamena but because of the assortment of knives and guns concealed inside.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. See www.redbikepublishing.com for more information

The Sad, Little Man-An excerpt from Commitment-A Novel

In her hut, Marta lay staring at the grass roof; it had been a fitful sleep. Bouts of fitful tossing were triggered by images of John. She wasn’t sure if he would fit in, or remain on Irian Jaya, but she hoped he would stay. She couldn’t believe her feelings for this man, and passed them off as curiosity. After all, he was fresh and full of conversation. But she had met men and women who came to visit as evangelical missionaries, preaching for a short time before moving on. Pilots, doctors and other medical persons came, as well as the Peace Corps and United Nations workers. None had the allure that John already had over her. He seemed to own some part of her, and she wasn’t ready to give it over.

She had to get him out of her mind....her heart. No, she couldn’t admit he had her heart. She finally rolled from her bed for the short trek to the stream where she washed. On the way, she saw John and the old man.

She saw John smile, John get up and trot toward her. He looked like he had also had little sleep, something she attributed to being in new surroundings. She wondered if he could tell she hadn’t slept either.

“I just shared a strange sunrise with that man over there. He is the saddest, quietest person I have ever seen. What’s his story?” John asked.

“He does that every morning without fail. He wakes and watches the jungle until the sun comes up. Several years ago, some of the villagers were kidnapped. He believes if he keeps up his vigil that his wife and son will return,” Marta replied.

John looked back in time to see the sad man shuffle sadly away. 

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Commitment | Military Writers Society of America

Commitment | Military Writers Society of America

MWSA Review

I was hesitant when I picked up Commitment to read and to do this review as I usually don't care for Romances, but boy was I surprised! The author did a great job in putting adventure and a little suspense into this story. Bennett selected a fascinating setting with Indonesia and then enhanced the plot by throwing in some bush pilots that worked there with the Christian missionaries. Since I consider myself a grizzled old military vet rather than a romantic, it didn't matter to me whether John, the male lead, committed himself to Marta or to a future career with the airlines. However, once a bunch of unscrupulous miners were tossed in the mix, and Marta's life was in danger, I had to keep reading!

I recommend this book to anyone who loves a good romance, to those who have an interest in the life of Christian ministries abroad, and of course to those who want to know if John chose Marta or the airlines!
Reviewed by: Bob Doerr (2012)



Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel".Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook".See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of:Army LeadershipThe Ranger HandbookThe Army Physical Readiness ManualDrill and CeremoniesThe ITARThe NISPOM

A new mission

CHAPTER 16

     Jason was finishing breakfast when John entered the cafeteria. He pushed his plate aside and motioned for John to take a seat next to him. He was pleased with the progress John was making as the new pilot, having earned the respect of not only the other pilots, but of the mission families as well, who also spoke well of him.

     “You wanted to see me?” John asked.

     “I didn’t want to tell you at the briefing because I didn’t want to undermine the other pilots. I need you to fly Sandy to the villages to give medical checkups.” Jason spoke of his wife’s nursing profession.

    “Why can’t the others do this? Not that I mind, of course.” Inside, John was excited.

     “Well, if you need to hear it,” Jason wiped his mouth with the neatly folded napkin. “I question your motivation to be here. But I think you are, aside from Steve, one of the best pilots, but he already has a full plate.”

    “So the job entails flying your wife to the villages other pilots are serving,” John said.

     “Yes, every quarter Sandy performs check-ups, goes through medical records and gives shots. It should take about a week to finish.”

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Little Operation? I don't thinks so

John’s first assessment of Tiom reminded him of the setting in most bush pilot stories he had ever read. The rich greenery surrounding a well-used runway was almost cliché. “Adventures would be launched from this small cradle he would call home, most likely stemming from encounters with such flying hazards as tall snow-covered mountains, smoke from clear-cutting, and clouds.

Daryl led him to the two waiting men. One was very tall, about a head taller than the other. He looked purely business with his hands clasped behind his back; nothing to hide. The other wore the warmest smile John had ever seen.

During introductions, a small crowd of greeters circled the four. John felt himself being whisked away to a more private meeting.

“We’ve been looking toward your arrival,” Jason said in a rehearsed voice. “Our responsibilities cover a lot of ground, as you’ll soon learn.”

“Thank you both for the welcome. Daryl has been briefing me on your little operation here and I’m anxious to get started.”

“I can assure you there is nothing ‘little’ about what we do here,” Jason defended. “There are many people who rely on us for logistical support.”

“Sorry, did I say something wrong?” John asked.

“Never mind him, as the backbone of the setup, Jason’s a little overworked. In fact, he has staff just to monitor his blood pressure,” Steve said chuckling.

“All right, excuse me if I take a little pride. I’m sure you meant no harm, nor did I. I just wanted you to know how important our work is. New pilots don’t understand this until reality hits them head on, sometimes in the form of disease or a plane wreck. Working here is no way to collect flight hours. Our business is people’s lifeline, an intravenous line straight to their hearts. Realize this early on and your work here will be rewarding for you and those whose lives you touch,” Jason said.

“I couldn’t say it better myself,” admitted Daryl. “I guess that’s why you’re in charge.”

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Get Past the Medicine Man

Digul is hurt. I don't know how it happened, but he came limping out of the jungle, looking for his mother. Since then the witch doctor has had him locked away in his hut. He won't even let me take a look.

I pray for his healing and the opportunity to evaluate his injury. His poor mother is frantic, and she thinks his leg is broken. Might be a call to the pilots at Prayer on a Wing in the future.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

A Hastily Fired Arrow

    A hastily fired arrow struck the back window and deflected high above John’s head. He jumped up and shoved the propeller with all his might as he came down. John ran a wide arc around the spinning propeller and entered under the left wing.

     The roar of the engine frightened the natives, causing them to take cover on the ground. The propeller sent wet leaves and vines like miniature missiles flying in their direction, forcing them to stay prone until the plane pulled away.

As he taxied down the strip, John cranked the flap setting to full in preparation for a short field take-off. As the wing’s trailing edges lengthened, he turned to check on Steve. His buddy was still restless, and not of much use. John set the brakes, running the engine to maximum power. The brakes groaned and the wheels longed to be free. John saw a blur pass before him as he realized the arrow assault had resumed. Something else caught his attention, and he saw how a character ran full speed toward the plane, a stone axe raised in attack.

     John released the brakes and plowed full power toward the end of the runway, but not before the foe released his ax. Striking Steve’s window, it splintered the glass like a complex spider web.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Big Reception Party

I guess the new guy has arrived. The home base in Tarampura is holding a reception party. I guess everyone will be there. Steve is going to fly me in tomorrow and then the gang's all there.

I hope he knows what he's in for, coming across the world to these remote jungles.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

New guy is flying in today. We could use another pilot out here, but I always wonder how long they will stay. The jungle isn't for everyone.




Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

We Can Get Along Without You-An Excerpt

Over the next few days Marta struggled with her feelings. She knew she wanted John for her own, but she also suspected he wasn’t the type to settle down. Oh sure they could be together, but it would be on his terms. They would live in a large city where she would be his pretty little wife and he a world traveling airline pilot. Sure, they would still serve God, but maybe as members of a large congregation, not in the capacity they now served as missionaries half a world away.

That is how she imagined her life with him. The more she thought about life without him, the bleaker that seemed. She would live with her decision forever and she would be happy here. Only the more she thought about John, the more desperate she felt knowing that the only other man she could ever love, would ever love, would probably be devoted to somebody else.

Numah approached around dinner time, as Marta carried water from a creek. Numah grabbed one of the water bags. “Will you be boiling this water or using the medicine?”

“The water may be a little dirtier, so I think I will use some of the iodine pills the nurse gave me,” Marta said.

“It is strange to think you cannot drink our water. Something we have always required for life, you cannot live with.”

“Yes, it is strange. It reminds me of a saying we have in America. ‘Don’t drink the water.’ We tell that to everyone who travels to foreign countries,” said Marta.

“Over the years I have seen you work very hard and struggle with many enemies inside of you, just to be our friend, and to teach us what you do. But lately, I have seen you struggle with something very strong, an enemy that may indeed be your friend,” said Numah.

Marta crouched mentally, every synapse, nerve, and muscle fiber poised, preparing herself for what was coming from her observant friend.

“I pray to God since you and Raymond showed Him to me that day three years ago. Since his death, I have been praying for the man who will make you his own and continue the work here,” said Numah.

“I am not lonely,” Marta protested. “I am here for one thing, and that is for all of you.”

“Do not assume we will fall apart without you. There are others who are willing to ‘toil in the fields,’ as you say. But I do not think you will leave us if you are with this man,” said Numah.

Jeffrey W. Bennett is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

.

I hope you understand

     “That was a close call, wasn’t it?” Marta patted John’s hand.

     “Yeah, I thought she would be chopped up for sure,” John sighed.

     “That’s terrible.”

     “It’s true. I saw the same thing happen in flight school. One of the other students didn’t duck low enough while approaching the helicopter. I almost quit flying,” John reflected.

Marta turned to John and leaned her left shoulder against the plane. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

     “Are you really?” John asked.

     “Yes. I wanted to tell you last night at the Millicans’, but I felt too awkward to say anything. You must hate me for ignoring you, but I felt like if I said anything they would know about last night,” said Marta.

    “I felt awful about ignoring you. I thought you were mad at me,” John said.

     “Please let me finish, John, while I have the courage,” said Marta.

     John looked into her imploring eyes. He saw nothing but frustration and confusion. Doesn’t she realize she could ask me for anything and I would do it for her? “By all means.”

     “Actually, I thought you were mad at me. I just couldn’t speak to you or look at you without feeling I would burst into tears.” Marta’s voice became shaky and she quickly turned away, trying to hide the tears welling in her eyes. She sniffed them back before continuing. “I have liked you since the first time we met, actually since before we met. I prayed all night and struggled with desperation when you and Steve went down. You can’t imagine how terrible I felt hearing you on the radio and not being able to help. I tried so many times to answer you and let you know we were here for you praying and hoping. When I followed your disaster on the radio and learned of your courage, of how you survived to bring Steve back, I instantly felt something for you, even though we had never met.” She saw John’s aquiline face glow with amazement.

     “When we finally did meet, my knees buckled in spite of my denying my true feelings. John, I have only felt this way toward one other person and I feel terribly guilty about having them about you. Can you understand that?”

     “Had I known you were there for me when I was in that jungle, I would have been out a lot earlier,” said John. “The moment I saw you, I recognized someone I could easily like and trust. But like you, I guess I tried to hide those feelings. And like you, I can’t afford to fall in love. You know what my plans are, and knowing you has made them difficult to face,” said John.

     “But we can’t just deny them, even though we feel we must. I want to continue with our relationship, act on our feelings, and let what happens happen. I’m willing to suffer the consequences of my decision. I don’t care. I just want you while I have you. But at the same time, I don’t know if I am ready for others to know about us. I just don’t think I can explain our relationship since they all knew Raymond, and I don’t know what they would think of me,” said Marta.

      “Marta, I can’t promise you anything other than that I do earnestly care for you. But I may have to leave here, and I know you are just as dedicated to your work as I am to my goal of becoming an airline pilot.         

     You couldn’t even consider leaving with me. Think about that. If you still want to continue in the direction we are headed, let me know next time you see me. I will be back in two days. Then, if you still want me, I can let the others in Tiom know how we feel about each other,” said John.

      “Thanks for understanding. That gives you points in my book.” Marta said tenderly, caressing his cheek with the back of her hand.

      John returned her smile warmly and nuzzled his face into her comforting open hand. He was grateful for her honesty but just couldn’t shake the dreadful feeling of having to come to a decision between following Marta or his plans.

     Marta watched the plane become a distant speck over the mountainous horizon. After the plane disappeared, Marta walked over to the plaque dedicating the airfield to her late husband. Tears were heavy in her eyes as she caressed the letters forming his name. Each letter Marta traced with her fingertips provoked fond memories of the man who was gone. But she knew love and the hope to love again was not lost. “I hope you understand,” she whispered tearfully, somehow knowing he would. 

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the author of Commitment. non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Watch the Propeller

      John taxied the plane to the opposite end of the small airstrip, turned it into the wind as he usually did, and prepared to shut down. As he reached down to grab his check list, he caught a glimpse of sudden movement from the crowd. At the same time, Digul recognized his mother and began rocking in excitement, waving his arms, and shouting. This added to the urgency of Digul’s crying mother as she bolted toward the plane.

     “John, look out!” Marta warned, at the same time waving the excited mother back.

     “Noooo!” John screamed, reaching for the throttle to still the whirling blades.

     John stared blankly as he shook off the fear. That was almost a catastrophe, he thought as his door swung open. He was not completely aware of the many hands that rubbed his arms and patted his head. He wanted to just lie back and sigh as he recovered from the shock. As he sat shaking, he saw Marta being pulled from the plane, as everyone wanted to hug her. It wasn’t until the plane started rocking as many bodies bumped against it that John become fully aware of the celebration.

     Digul’s mother cried and held Marta in thanksgiving as some men helped Digul out of the back. They stepped back aghast at the hard structure on his leg. For a long minute, the celebration came to an abrupt end. The poor kid just stood there with his head cocked to one side trying to understand. His mother began to approach him cautiously, not wanting to hurt her son, who just two days before lay on his death bed. Seeing his mother only a few yards away he tried to walk toward her, but only stumbled.

     Finally recovered from his scare, John emerged from the plane with the crutches and fell in behind Marta and the boys.

     Digul was proud of himself for being able to slowly walk to his mother. He stopped and beamed a bright smile of accomplishment. He struggled to get his arms free and held them out to his mother.

     Suddenly the spell was broken, as the mother once again rushed to her son. She held him close as the people began cheering. They understood he had recovered, and he wasn’t a ghost.

     Digul took up his crutches and followed the rest of his people to the village as the excitement wore off, leaving John and Marta alone. They stood together leaning against the plane, each enjoying the cool air blowing in from the east and swirling around them. It was quiet now and they could actually hear the breeze whispering gently over the plane. In the distance, playing monkeys caused tree tops to sway vigorously.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Evil Miners-An excerpt from Commitment-A Novel

      John painfully endured the final few minutes of the flight before he could relieve himself from the awful smell permeating the tiny cabin. He bore the discomfort of the melee from the back, the awful smell, and the constant cleaning that, thank God, Marta was attending to. Throughout attempting to maintain his composure, John noticed the stripped out area of the mountain top. Funny, there didn’t seem to be any activity last time. From eight-hundred feet, John could see some of the inhabitants moving about, perhaps cleaning up.

     “There’re your buddies,” John said sarcastically.

     “What was that?” Marta asked.

     “Those guys.” John banked the plane to the left, forcing Marta to lean on his arm as she looked out of his window at the miners’ camp. “It looks like business as usual down there.”

      “Those idiots are doing nothing but destroying the environment and everything that I have worked for,” Marta said tersely. “I know I sound cruel, but they are criminals. I wouldn’t normally hang out with vermin who may endanger my life, so I see no reason to put myself in possible danger associating with them.”

     “I’m sorry you’re having a hard time with them. Hopefully we can do something about their harassing your village.” John felt anger welling inside at the idea of someone messing with Marta.

      “Add to that polluting the water, stealing game, illegal trapping, the list is endless. I told Jason to let the authorities know, but I guess they are slow at reacting. Especially with all the political violence the military and police have to deal with,” said Marta.

     “I’ll see what I can do about getting this problem solved with the authorities. I may be able to practice some of my linguistic skill the school taught me,” said John.

     “I’m sure you will do just fine.”

     “Terima Kasih,” John thanked her in Indonesian. “Anyway, these guys could be here illegally. If you think about it, we are probably the only ones flying around. We have a job to do and the funds to get it done. The military mission probably can’t    support air surveillance.”

     “You don’t have to tell me. I was here right after the new government was established. They were and still are having a problem with red tape and the bureaucracy of visas and passports, just for starters.” Marta sighed. “The boys in the back are the future.” She smiled at them and was relieved to see that Digul had lost some of his green tint.

 Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Sick Patient and Unstable Air-Not a Good Combination

     It was 9 a.m. before John, Marta, and the two boys headed back to their jungle home. Marta sat in front with John this time, leaving the boys to keep each other company. Digul, more aware of his surroundings, was amazed at all he saw below, and commented fearfully yet inquisitively to Tucker. The back of the plane was filled with shouts as the boys tried to talk above the roar of the engine.

     Below, the green hills and cloud filled valleys glowed in the morning light. The fiery sun hadn’t yet burned off the fog from the lower laying valleys. To Digul, it looked as if the rivers were steaming, and it frightened him.

     Even with all the attention of the cast signing, Digul was ready to go home. After the weekend stay, all the pain he had been through, and inevitably, the homesickness, he wanted his mother. Tucker kept assuring him the ride wouldn’t be much longer, but the more they flew, the more Digul wanted to get down. Marta overheard the excitement in his voice and his comments about feeling sick. She opened a window and adjusted the fresh air vents toward the rear. The newness of flight was quickly replaced by the pangs of nausea.

     “He doesn’t look good, John. How much longer?” Marta asked.

Tucker sat wide-eyed in helplessness as he anticipated what would happen next. He wanted to be brave for his companion’s sake, but friendship responsibilities only went so far. If only he could increase the distance between himself and his queasy seat mate.

      “The warm ground is heating the air, therefore giving us a bumpy ride. I don’t think there is anything I can do to make this any better. Hey, reach behind your seat and get one of those barf bags,” John ordered.

     Marta undid her seat belt and shifted to her knees. John felt her arm and long hair brushed his shoulder. He could smell perfume from the advertisements in the magazines he had given her last night and was momentarily brought back to the kiss.

      A horrible retching and splattering sound interrupted his warm thoughts as vomit hit the back of Marta’s seat and oozed to the floor. A putrid smell filled the cabin forcing John to let out a moan of disgust. Marta chastised him with a wicked glance.

     “Did he make the bag? Did he make the bag?” John asked excitedly.

     “Not exactly,” Marta chuckled as she leaned over the seat. “I think it was a direct hit into the seat pouch though.”

     “Oh, great!” John threw up his hands.

     Meanwhile, Tucker was about to climb out of his seat to escape any more episodes with Digul. Marta winked and asked him to hand her bag from the rear of the plane. She opened it and used one of her shirts to clean up some of the sickness.

     “I can wash it later,” Marta shrugged.

I could have died of hunger-An excerpt from Commitment-A Novel

John followed the voices and the spicy scent of food to the dining area where half of Tiom gathered.

“You made it,” Daryl called.

John turned briskly toward the familiar voice.

“Come on over and meet some people, if you haven’t already,” Daryl said.

John rolled his eyes and headed toward her. “If it weren’t for Steve, I may not have made it this far. I probably would have been starving in my bed, dying for a midnight snack.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention,” Jason spoke up from atop one of the chairs, not really needing the extra height. “Hello,” he continued tapping a serving spoon on a glass.

Eventually, all attention was focused on him.

“I would like to take this time to officially welcome the newest member of our roost. He flew all the way from Texas, and boy, are his arms tired,” Jason offered the familiar joke receiving only sporadic snickers.

“Okay, I see that went over your heads. “Anyway, I’m sure that you have many questions for him, but, please, for John’s sake, give him some breathing room. He will be here long enough to update everyone on life at home.”

“Here, here,” John said.

Someone in the background laughed out loud.

“Anyway, let’s make him feel welcome. So, without further ado, let’s eat some of this wonderful food. Doug, would you please lead us with a word of thanks?”

John decided immediately he liked everyone. It was hard to really talk to Jason as he couldn’t get past a greeting. He decided it must be all the fuss of the evening and dismissed it.

Later, burned out and grateful to be under covers, he lay his head down on the first pillow he had seen in a few days and fell into a deep sleep.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Awkward-An excerpt from Commitment-A Novel

John and Marta barely shared a glance as they passed the evening with the Millicans. It seemed like their time with the Millicans did more harm than good.

They interacted fine within their group, but pressure was great between them. 

John kicked himself for acting so strangely. He had no idea why it was so hard to look at Marta. John wanted to say something to her, but had no idea what. The more he didn’t say, the greater the chasm became. John pleaded silently for Marta to look at him as she had earlier, and speak solely to him as they were speaking before. He felt close to her then, and he wanted it back. Now it was too late. If only they could be alone for a few minutes, and he could assure her of how he felt.

Marta suffered likewise. Her head spun as thoughts and questions invaded her mind. She was with her thoughts, sharing time with the Millicans, but definitely not including John in conversation. Marta imagined how upset he must be with the way she treated him.

“You know what we forgot to do?” Steve’s words suddenly interrupted their torment. “We forgot to sign Digul’s cast.”

“You know, in all the excitement and arrangements being made, I completely forgot,” Rachel added.

“Maybe tomorrow we can introduce him to our little custom, and have Marta translate.” It was John’s opportunity to finally acknowledge Marta.

“Great idea. I will bring it up in the morning,” said Marta.

The conversation continued until John and Marta were finally speaking to one another more easily. Each was now certain the Millicans would not see through them and find their secret.

Not able to stand it much longer, John got up to leave. He hoped Marta would escort him outside so they could talk. As he said his good-byes, he prayed the enthralling woman would glance his way. She just had to and understand the sign he would give her. He felt like a teenager in front of a date’s parents, but it was what had to be done at the time. He couldn’t afford to be obvious, for her sake.

It wasn’t until he was walking toward the door, pretending to laugh at something Steve said, that Marta glanced at him with understanding eyes. She kept her head down and wore a warm smile. John knew she wouldn’t be going outside with him. He returned her smile, reassuring her he too was feeling better.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

 Prior to becoming a Christian, Paul had persecuted believers with a vengeance. Well educated in Jewish tradition, Roman schooling and other scholarly traditions, Paul thought he was doing God a favor. He was unapologetic in his approach. He was dedicated to kicking in doors and locking up Christ’s followers up for good. He even attended the stoning of Stephen one of the first deacons, Stephen.

You would think that as an enemy of Christ, God would put him away. However God had other plans for Paul. According to Ananias’ account in Acts, God had a plan for Paul that include him being a world class evangelist and who would suffer much.

The key word, which is my addition, is that Paul “would” suffer. He willingly gave his life to Christ after his conversion on the road to Damascus. As we look into bravery, commitment and standing up for what’s right, we see instances where God’s people submitted, as Jesus did, to being brought where they didn’t want to go, and suffer things they didn’t plan on suffering and did so willingly. But, they didn’t do so as victims.

A prime example is where shortly after Paul’s conversion, he is preaching Christ to the Jews and in their synagogue. All the Jews could remember is how Paul had at one point been commissioned to stop the spread of Christianity and now he is infected; a believer. From Paul’s point of view, he can do nothing else. Having crossed the line, he was “all in”, ready and willing to serve. As with his earlier life, he did so without apology. Having upset the Jews, he faced his first death threat. Other disciples helped him escape.

However, Paul is not acting cowardly. He is boldly professing Christ. As a result, people want him to stop and will take his life to do so. Paul’s escape wasn’t a concession, but a bold plan to preserve his mission. He didn’t run away, denounce Christ, conform to the world or stay quiet. He ran to fight another day. Almost immediately, he began to preach at another location.

Using Paul’s example, here are 3 world class ways to be bold in light of adversity

1. Preach Christ where and when you can. God’s word is always valuable. However, some people won’t believe you and many will attack, ignore and try to discourage you. Here are some possible reactions:

a. If pulled away by the spirit, follow the lead

b. If chased out, go. Just as Jesus instructed his disciples to shake off the dust; dust yourselves off and go elsewhere

2. Always remember, the gospel always makes sense to somebody. You never know when you save a life. Be prepared to address questions with confidence (pray, read, practice). You might not have Paul’s education, but you do have your story and experiences. Speak for yourself and don’t try to use someone else’s words.

3. Step back, refresh and seek help from fellow Christians. Paul got help from the church. Make sure you are well connected, resourced and in a position to be renewed spiritually.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

That Was the Catalyst

“Yes, something like that,” she replied.

“Come on. We’d better get back before they miss us, or you freeze to death,” said John.

“Yeah, good idea,” she said dreamily. “Maybe Rachel can let me borrow a jacket or something to stay warm in,” Marta replied, joining him in nervous chatter.

The walk back proved awkward. Neither of them knew what to make of the situation they had just gotten themselves into.

John put his arm around Marta as she continued to rub off the cold, and the nervousness.

“Please don’t,” Marta snapped suddenly.

“Oh, sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m just not ready to do this. Please understand,” Marta said laying her head on his shoulder for a second of reassurance.

“Don’t worry, I understand.” John’s voice told her he wasn’t sure about his feelings either.

They walked back in clumsy silence to the picnic tables where she’d left the magazines. Marta wondered if it was such a good idea to have eagerly applied the perfume. They sat on the table with their feet on the seats. Marta put her elbows on her knees and hid her face in her hands as she sorted through the confusion in her mind.

“Are you all right?” John asked unnerved by the silence.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, sitting up straight and patting his leg. “John, what am I going to do about you?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping I didn’t ruin anything back there. I mean, I’m glad you are here tonight, and I hoped we could play some games since it’s early yet. But you probably want to be alone now,” John said.

“No, I don’t want to be alone; I was planning on some time with you. I’m just mixed up, so believe me, I am looking for relief.” Marta assured him with a smile. “It’s not what happened back there that has me confused. That was the catalyst that started it, but it’s not you.”

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Semper Gumby!

Just like John, Marta and the rest of the folks at Wing on a Prayer, I recently traveled to the other side of the world. I wrote about a similar grueling trip in Commitment, before I actually took a similar trip myself. Though I've flown to other countries and could relate to the travel, that was in service of the US Army and with a well rehearsed movement plan.

However, on a different mission, there is more travel and not as much of a movement plan. The only real military style strategy is our phrase "Semper Gumby". A phrase we borrowed that reflects a severe discipline to practicing an incredible amount of flexibility. This state of mind starts with departure and layover times as well as the 21 plus hours of just sitting on a plane.

When you cross many time zones, you find yourself wondering what time it is. But sometimes there's no frame of reference like for instance 35,000 feet above the south pacific. So, you wonder after 9 hours of flying time whether or not you should be concerned with what the time is at home, or the time it is in the layover country still 8 hours away. Once you land in the layover country, you still have to wait four hours for the next flight and then travel another 7 hours to land in the country of your final destination. But wait, there's more, you still have another long travel through primitive roads to get to one of the mission opportunities. That's what makes missionary work fun and adventurous. 

Once you hit the ground, the real work starts, and the schedule unravels. The only thing you can really count on is the value you add while serving others, sometimes on a moments notice. On mission, you rest when you can so you can be ready to share the Gospel. For a short two week trip, it takes almost that long to gt your body set to a 12 hour time difference, but you don't rest. You work and pray to stay engaging and helpful. You might have a rest day scheduled, but then receive a last minute opportunity to give a bible study to a group two hours away. Semper Gumby!

Doing things of God is rewarding. Whether its feeding the poor, telling a bible story or providing hope, the work is valuable and timeless. Writing about mission work puts me in the mind set to pray for missionaries. Though the stories in Commitment are fiction, they are based on the love and devotion these heroes display every day as they serve a loving God and show the love of Christ on a daily basis.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. His goal is to travel the world and share the gospel.

What real commitment looks like; lessons from life and fiction

     In Commitment, Marta has lost her husband, but not her desire to serve the Lord in Indonesia. In spite of tremendous hardships, she has trusted God and relied on the love of the people she serves. Life doesn’t get easier for her because she became obedient to her calling. It becomes more rewarding as she realizes she is making a difference.

     This level of devotion reminds me of the many friends who serve the Lord in other countries. They have decided to faithfully minister full time and teach others what they themselves know about God. They are committed to living a life honoring God as they try to introduce Jesus to many who have no idea. It sounds easy, but such commitments are tough and stress a person’s dedication, focus and desire. Continuous prayer, bible study, support of friends and family and a deep faith helps them overcome the toughest of obstacles. 

     To put things in perspective, I reflect on a recent disaster that affected much of my state, Alabama. A few months ago, a tornado swept through killing many. It’s impact also destroyed homes and knocked out our community’s electricity for a week. We had no lights, hot water, air conditioning, gas, food or television. We were otherwise unscathed and therefore had many options to escape the inconveniences. One such plan included heading to stay with family in the next state. However, we made the choice to stay and join our church in helping neighbors and community recover.

     Since we had no direct impact, our days were spent volunteering with tornado recovery, trying to keep frozen food from spoiling, cooking food that we could rescue, gathering with neighbors and sharing food until it got too dark. We went to bed as shadows blanketed our homes and woke up with the sun creeping into our   windows. After a week, we were well into the rhythm of survival when the power was suddenly restored.   That week of inconvenience turned into a wonderful time to get closer to our families, friends and gather closer as a community. But this was a onetime experience, one that we quickly recovered from.

     In contrast, I'm reminded of friends in foreign places. Some locations are remote and electricity only runs for part of the day. Intermittent electricity is the norm, transportation is unreliable, language translation is fallible and customs are strange. Dinner may take several hours as meat has to be bought, water has to be sanitized, vegetables have to be cooked and ingredients have to be gathered that day. Businesses, stores, government services and doctor’s offices may not be available every day.  

     If family members get ill, there is no immediate visit to a doctor’s office. If foreign government services are needed, it may take days or weeks of waiting in a faraway city. As missionaries they have choices. They can return to the comfort of living in the US or they can remain where they are. My suspicion is that they have a strong pull to serve God right where they are. This desire far outweighs the convenience that they could be experiencing. Like Marta, they are right where they should be, enjoying the impact they are making.

"You mean like this?"

“The assistant and I held Digul down, and Dr. Reese set his leg. It took two tries to get it right. The poor boy was in so much pain. And when that leg popped in place, I thought I would lose it right there.” Marta squeezed his arm, trying to push back the memory.

“That is awful. But guess what? He’ll be better, and pretty soon, nobody will remember the painful parts.” He took Marta’s hand and gently patted it.

“Thanks, that is something I will not soon forget,” Marta replied.

“Maybe tonight, for a little while at least, we can help put it behind you. This is your night to relax and enjoy some long needed talk and fun,” John said.

“Sounds great. Let’s start off with a walk. I need to stretch a bit before dinner. I’m pretty tense.”

They walked around the village in silence for a while. Stars appeared in the eastern sky as darkness enveloped the earth like a heavy curtain being drawn across a window. With the night came the chill. Marta crossed her arms to retain warmth, and rubbed her hands over each arm slowly and rhythmically. As they walked, slower now, Marta kept her eyes on the ground, afraid of tripping. She sneaked glimpses at John from the corners of her eyes and appreciated his strong features. His jaw clenched and working as if in deep thought, giving him a rugged appeal.

“Who was the other guy?” John suddenly asked.

“Who?”

“You know, the one with the doctor.”

“Oh, his name is Benji. His parents are missionaries up north, and he is assisting Dr. Reese until he goes to medical school. He’s kind of worried about going back to the States, though. It’s going to be a new experience for him,” said Marta.

“I guess the prospect of meeting different people can be scary,” John said.

“The funny thing is his concern over girls, and how to meet them,” said Marta.

“He seemed to do okay with you,” John said hesitantly.

So, he did notice, Marta thought. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I just meant, he seemed to admire you, you know... notice you.”

She looked down to hide her smile, flattered by his concern. “Well, I think he wanted some advice – you know, a woman’s view.”

“Oh, did you give him any?” John asked.

“Just that the best way to show a woman you are interested in her is to be yourself, be courteous, and maybe hint in some way.”

“You mean flirting?” John asked.

They stopped walking and stared across the river not remembering how they had arrived. John turned to Marta. Her hair played about her face, and she let go of her self-embrace to pull back a few tickling wisps. The way she looked at him made him nervous as she saw a new confidence in him. He seemed determined to capture her gaze.

“Do you mean like this?” he asked.

Marta felt his touch then followed his gentle pull toward him. She was caught off guard, but her eyes widened in anticipation and she didn’t resist. She felt herself falling into John’s gaze as she followed his lead with tiny steps. Still facing him, she closed her eyes in expectation as they moved closer to one another until their lips met.

Reluctantly, Marta pulled herself away, but stayed in his embrace. She looked up at him and reveled in the silence. Somewhere frogs croaked their love songs, but neither of them seemed to notice.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

You Were There For That?-An Excerpt From Commitment-The Novel

“Marta, you and John come by the house in about an hour for some dinner, okay?” Steve said, as he and Rachel sat on one of the picnic tables watching the sun set.

The western horizon offered a beautiful reddish hue, graduating to blue, purple, and finally darkness to the east. The perfect ending.

Crickets chirped excitedly and insects buzzed busily as they began their nocturnal lives. Sounds and voices carried in the thin evening air. There were still a few people on the grounds, and some actually picked up the volleyball to get a few more sets in.

“I’ll be there,” John replied, then turned to Marta. “Will you?”

“Of course,” Marta said, smiling sweetly as she pushed some hair back behind her ears.

“Hey, I have something for you, wait here,” John said.

She took a seat on the table and rested her feet on the bench. A few minutes later John returned with some magazines under his arm. “Here, I thought you might like to catch up on the latest.” He saw her notice the old dates. “Well, almost the latest,” he chuckled.

Marta looked up; her big eyes sparkled with appreciation. John loved how she looked at him just then, and memorized every second of the glance. It seemed as if the world had stopped turning, and nothing else mattered.

“How sweet. I can’t wait to look at them,” Marta said.

“I meant to give them to you before it got dark.”

“This is just fine. I’ll glance through them tomorrow,” Marta gave him that look again, before thumbing blindly through the magazines. She felt quietly through the pages until she found what she was looking for. The sweet fragrance let her know she was at the right spot. Even after all this time, it still smells good, she thought as she rubbed the fragrant card along her wrists. She pretended to pull her hair back as she brushed her neck with her freshly scented wrists. She wanted to smell like a woman.

“What was your day like at the hospital?” John asked. “I know it was nowhere as fun as ours here.”

“It was horrible.” Marta said, sobered from her thoughts. “I hope I never have to experience that again. The poor kid had no idea what was going to happen to him, and I didn’t have any idea for that matter. I mean, he rides in a plane, a make-shift ambulance, and experiences high-tech equipment for the first time in his life. If that wasn’t stressful enough, they set that fracture. It was horrible!” she shivered noticeably.

“You were there for that?” John asked.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Not Again

Marta hugged and kissed his sweating and tear-tracked face. Finally, he calmed down and lay panting.

“Marta, you’ll have to hold him again,” said Reese.

“You can’t be serious.” Marta said incredulously.

“It didn’t set.” Dr. Reese shook his head grimly. “We’ll have to try again.”

Marta looked down at the boy, whose brow was covered in sweat. He seemed to know what was going on and nodded his consent. He grabbed the padded sides of the table as if he could channel his pain into the table and down to the floor.

Once again the doctor gave a nod to prepare everyone, grunted, and pulled.

Digul strained against Marta and Benji, raised his head, then released the familiar scream. It was choked off before it could build up, as the pain proved too great. Digul’s eyes rolled back in his head, and Marta eased him back down to the table.

“All right, I think that did it. Congratulations, team,” said Reese.

“Shouldn’t we revive him?” asked Marta.

“Not at all, I think it is the perfect time to put on his cast. While he is out we can wrap it without any protest,” Dr. Reese explained while gathering plaster and bandages.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Primal Screams

Marta felt sick to her stomach as she tried to put on a brave face for Digul. She was as white as a sheet and didn’t feel very effective in comforting her little friend. She looked down and choked as she saw his sad eyes plead with her for an end to the torture.

“Marta, we’re not finished yet. Are you going to be all right?” Reese asked.

“I don’t know... when are we going to be done?’ asked Marta.

“Soon, but I still need you to hold the boy. We still have to set the leg. The sooner we get started, the sooner he can be out of his misery,” informed Reese.

Marta sighed heavily.

“It’s okay, Marta. Believe me, he will survive this, and I seriously doubt if the pain will ever be a factor in his life. Thousands of people have been through this.”

“You’d better be right,” Marta snipped. “At least the anesthetic should help.”

With one hand below Digul’s knee, and the other below the break, he suddenly pulled straight out with a twisting motion, held it, and released.

The bright lights danced in front of Digul’s eyes as the pain resounded from his shin bone and up his leg before racing the length his spine and slamming into his brain. He let out a slow long moan increasing in tempo and volume until it produced a primal scream.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

The Needle-The Shot

Benji stopped the vehicle in a worn part of the lawn bordered by logs. He jumped out immediately and opened Marta’s door.

Marta followed the entourage of other medical assistants, led by Benji, to the third room on the right. They sat the doctor’s stretcher down and transported Digul to the waiting examination table. Dr. Reese asked her to translate the procedures of x-ray and diagnosis to Digul, and then asked everyone else to leave. Dr. Reese went behind a protective screen to take the x-rays and returned with the results in no time. Marta patiently waited as Reese and Benji read the film.

Marta stared out of the open window slats. She was enthralled with the spectacular garden, totally at ease with a doctor in control. The flora amazed her. She had exactly the same plants surrounding her village, but took for granted its splendor and beauty. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

“I’m afraid I’m going to need your assistance for a most unpleasant task,” the doctor informed.

“What’s wrong?” asked Marta.

“Don’t be alarmed. The boy is going to be all right, but we have to set his leg. The break seems clean, so it should set easily. But it could be very painful,” said Reese.

“What can I do?” Marta didn’t want any part of it.

“We need help holding him down. Benji isn’t strong enough. In fact, I don’t know anyone who would be. When that pain kicks in, his body is going to do anything to eradicate it. He’ll scream bloody murder, kick, and anything else, it could cause further damage,” said Reese.

“I don’t know, doctor. I hope I have it in me,” Marta said quietly.

Marta reluctantly approached Digul. Poor guy doesn’t know what‘s coming. Marta saw him smile and cupped his face warmly in her hands. Marta knelt behind him and started whispering something. His face became hard and determined, but his eyes scanned the room fearfully. Dr. Reese nodded to Benji, who slowly lay across Digul’s torso and helped hold him down. “Marta, would you please try to divert his attention, I don’t want him to see this,” said Reese.

Marta strained to see what the crinkling of plastic revealed, as the doctor worked with a package. She regretted her curiosity immediately, thinking she could’ve lived a long life without having ever seen such a huge needle.

“I think half should do it,” said the doctor.

Marta gazed in horror as she anticipated the pain Digul would soon be experiencing as the guided needle would find its mark. Digul released a high pitched wail as he struggled to get free of the people holding him. Marta felt like a traitor, exposing the boy who trusted her to so much. She realized, as she kissed his pain-twisted face over and over, that this was no simple procedure.

The needle entered half its length, twisted, and plunged back in as the doctor pointed it in all directions around the center of the break. With each jab, he released the pain-killing medicine that Marta hoped would soon provide relief. Finally, after much torment, the needle backed out.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

The Lovely Garden-An Excerpt from Commitment-The Novel

The ride to the doctor’s office was only a few miles, but slow and bumpy. Marta rode in the passenger seat next to the young man who kept stealing glances as he drove. Marta perceived it quietly and it made her feel pretty.

Doctor Reese sat in the back with Digul and did a preliminary observation of the boy, quickly determining the extent of his injuries. “I think the young man will be fine, Mrs. Springer. You did a good job with the splint, and the first aid.”

“That’s wonderful doctor, we’ve been praying since Thursday. By the way, call me Marta; I prefer that over Mrs. Springer.”

“Okay, Marta it is.”

“You know Sandy can take credit for saving his life,” Marta said.

“That’s the wonder of modern medicine. Take a few pills and it all goes away,” the doctor stated.

“It really amazes me how I can be only thirty miles away, but we are separated by centuries of technology,” Marta said.

“Strange, isn’t it? Even five to ten miles away, people are dying from sickness and disease that is easily treatable. But how do we reach them?” asked Reese.

Marta turned almost all the way around in her seat and spoke to Digul. It was virtually unintelligible to Dr. Reese, but the driver understood.

“I know he has nothing to fear,” the driver spoke up for the first time.

“You understood?” asked Marta.

“Yes, my father is a missionary in the northern coast, up near Jayapura. I was what you call, ‘immersed’ in the local dialect. I also speak Indonesian proper, and a little Latin,” Benji said, flexing his lingual muscle.

“Well it’s great to meet a kindred spirit,” Marta said. “What are you doing way down here?”

“Would you believe, working for college,” said the driver.

“Benji here is working for me. I will lose him next fall to the university,” said Reese.

“Well, that’s great, Benji. Are you planning on practicing in the mission field?” asked Marta.

“I really don’t know yet. I just hope I like college enough to make it that far,” said Benji.

“Don’t worry. I think you have just what it takes to make it. You have drive, determination, and a love of learning,” the doctor threw in for support.

“I am impressed with your knowledge of languages, and willingness to learn them. That proves a good attitude and aptitude for hard work. Just don’t get distracted by the coeds,” said Marta.

“I can’t say that I am used to being around women, I mean other than my family, other missionaries and their families, and tribal women. Other than knowing them, I have never really had a date,” Benji confessed.

Marta assessed his Mediterranean features. This man would be a heart breaker. His smooth olive skin was tan from exploring jungles and living in tough environments.

“You don’t have to worry about dating. That will come with experience,” said Marta.

“How will I get them to notice me for who I am and not some oddball from a strange country?” asked Benji.

“Believe me, when they hear of the life you’ve led and experiences you’ve had, they will want to learn more about you. Just be polite and honest and you won’t have any trouble. A woman looks for decency and competence, and you fit that mold,” Marta informed.

“How can you tell?” Benji fished for reassurance.

“Just by the way you speak to me. Besides, I think missionaries would expect the most from their children, if only because of their work and who they represent,” said Marta.

“You hit that on the nose. Mom and Dad would never take any back talk. God forbid if I ever hurt my mother’s feelings, or was ever rude to an adult,” said Benji.

“See, I knew I didn’t read you wrong,” said Marta.

The ambulance stopped its bounding and rocking as the road smoothed. Benji rounded a curve as they entered the driveway. The landscaping was beautiful, causing Marta to sigh appreciatively at the driveway bordered with flowering vines and a garden of beautiful indigenous trees and flowers. The doctor had even diverted a stream to a tiny fish pond in the shade near a gazebo.

“Do you like it? I love to garden, and I wanted to bring some civilization to my small part of the world.” Dr. Reese beamed.

“I love how you did this using local plant life. I’m shocked not to have heard about this,” said Marta.

“Well, I’m surprised too. I’ve been working on it for years.”

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.