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.

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.

A Broken Leg of Any Other Name...

The next morning, John set Buttercup down for a bumpy but otherwise perfect landing at the Tarampura airstrip. He made a mental note that the strip of land carved from brush and trees would have to be groomed before it got out of hand. He also noted Marta wasn’t there to greet him.

“Hi, John! Are we going to fly on this nice day?” Tucker asked.

“I don’t think we can. The nurse and I still have a lot of villages to visit,” John said.

Numah smiled a bashful greeting.

“Where is Marta? Doesn’t she come to greet friends anymore?” asked Sandy.

“She want us to bring you. She fight with the village doctor,” Tucker said.

They climbed hurriedly to the village. They could hear Marta yelling loudly in the local dialect. When frustrated, she threw in intermittent English.

“What do you mean waving these feathers over him? This isn’t going to do any good. Just give it up and let me help,” Marta begged.

The witch doctor just grunted and continued his magic. Multi¬colored sacred bird feathers fluttered with the timed flicks of a nimble wrist as Mewpa ran them the length of the injured boy’s body. The young man was covered in skins and flower blossoms. Smoke spiraled upward from the scented candles on each corner of the mat he lay on, as if the sickness would drift away with the rising columns.

The young boy’s right leg lay at an odd angle, just below the knee. A simple splint of bamboo, secured with long grass, had lost its effectiveness as it began to unravel.

Marta insisted on evacuating the pitiful boy by air, to a facility where he could be properly treated. She couldn’t understand why Mewpa refused. His stubborn pride would not yield to pure logic. She could tell the patient was very sick and probably close to death. No amount of pleading could stir the consciousness of the elders, or even the family members. Nobody, not even the converts, would ever cross the will of one of the most powerful men in the village.

“Look, I know you mean well, but sometimes you have to go to other sources of help. He is going to get sicker. He needs medicine, and his leg needs to be fixed,” Marta begged.

“There is nothing more powerful than my medicine. I will heal his sickness, then we will fix his leg,” Mewpa replied, unfazed.

John and Sandy entered the hut as Numah and Tucker fearfully withdrew. Marta, having fought long and hard on behalf of the boy’s welfare, fell into the waiting arms of Sandy, and let herself sob with frustration. “We’ve got to do something, Sandy. He won’t even listen.”

“We’ll do something. Don’t worry,” Sandy replied.

John kicked at the dust and pretended to look at something on the ground.

“I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean to lose control in front of you. I’m just frustrated,” said Marta.

Marta saw the witch doctor snicker, then continue with a professional but I-know-what-I’m-doing, and-you’re-too-simple-to-¬recognize-greatness attitude.

“Don’t worry, Marta, I understand what you have been through. I’ve been through less frustrating situations, but didn’t handle them nearly as well as you are this one. At least the doctor is still standing.” Sandy laughed.

“Don’t get me wrong. I haven’t ruled out violence.” Marta allowed a chuckled.

Jeffrey W. Bennett is an author and 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 Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

Antivenom

An hour later John circled Tarampura. Once again, no visible obstacles prevented his landing. He noticed a lone figure running toward his parking area and knew it would be Tucker. I hope I’m not too late, he thought.

“Is he still alive?” John asked.

“He lives. He very sick and Marta look sick too,” said Tucker

John shot Tucker a confused look as he cinched his bag on his shoulder and trotted to the village. One look at Marta answered John’s question. She did look sick, sick with worry. He noticed her puffy eyes and a flush face transformed to relief and thanksgiving upon seeing him.

“Did you get it?” Marta’s smile was apprehensive until John nodded.

“Here, hope it helps.” John handed her the glass vial.

John watched Marta go to work. She glanced at Mewpa as if requesting permission and consequently received a nod. The patient looked exhausted. John hadn’t seen him seize since returning, but knew he was in bad shape.

Marta fumbled with the medication and all eyes watched expectantly for her medicine to heal.

“All we can do now is wait,” Marta said, rising to her feet.

“Has he improved?” John asked.

“His fits have slowed, but I’m not sure whether or not that means anything. It was a long wait without you,” Marta said.

Mewpa and others carried the patient off the path, and John started to follow.

Remember, 100% of all royalties will be applied to Jeff's mission trip to Asia. 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 Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

How Did You Find Marta?

Once again, Rachel, you’ve outdone yourself,” John said a week later.

“It was a delicious dinner, sweetheart. My compliments,” Steve said.

“Thanks guys, does that mean you’ll clean up?” Rachel asked.

“After a dinner like that, you can have anything you want.” Steve winked.

“I just wish I had more time to cook like this. The airstrip keeps me busy,” said Rachel.

“I would rather hear your lovely voice over the radio. It is much more welcoming than Jason’s,” Steve said.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence and the understanding. I like helping out there and with anything you fly boys might need. But, John, you might want to knock off the wisecracks about Jason, especially since he and Sandy are going to be here any minute,” Rachel warned.

John took the warning well. He felt Rachel and Steve could ask him anything and he would do it. With their growing friendship, he felt comfortable in their home, and he didn’t want to offend. He looked around the old building the Millicans called home. Rachel had decorated very attentively. The cinder block house matched his dorm room as simple wood and wicker design. Wonderful crafts and stencils adorned the walls. Bible verses and country scenes were embroidered in cross stitch and mounted in picture frames, while photos from home occupied other spaces.

John had been touched beyond words when Steve presented him with a nice cross stitch of a plane flying through clouds and the caption “...they shall mount up with wings as eagles. Isaiah 40:31.” Rachel had made it for two reasons. The first, upon John rescuing her man and himself when the plane went down, and the second when he was assigned to his route.

“So, are you telling me that your culinary experience was better tonight, than it was... say... the other day in Marta’s village?” Rachel asked.

“Oh, I see how you are,” John glanced playfully from the corner of his eyes. “Steve must’ve had a good laugh telling the story so you both could gang up on me. But that’s all right, see if I tell you anything again,” John said, punching his cowering buddy in the arm.

“Did you or did you not enjoy the eye of newt or boiled goat’s bladder?” Rachel teased.

“Well, it wasn’t that bad, honey,” Steve interjected. “Just a few bugs and spiders is all I heard.”

“You two are way off base; it was just a few harmless grubs.” John could hardly get the word grubs out.

“How did you find Marta?” Rachel asked.

“Did you have to ask that?” Steve interrupted.

“Tell us. You’re amongst friends. I mean, an enchanting woman living amongst primitive people, good looking, independent, and single. Probably not a bad gamble to bet you may have been the teeniest bit impressed.”

“Yes, you can say that,” John admitted.

“Oh, we’re just teasing you. Marta is a great friend of ours. In fact, she is as much a part of our family as we consider you to be. She is a very intriguing person” Rachel said.

“If it’s all the same, I don’t want to talk about it. A relationship I mean,” said John.

“Yeah, right,” Steve replied. He and Rachel could tell by John’s reaction to the mere mention of Marta’s name that there was some unspoken chemistry at work.

Remember, 100% of all royalties will be applied to Jeff's mission trip to Asia. 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 Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

Hiding

The leader, dressed in a loincloth and wearing a necklace of bones and ornamental feathers, motioned for one of his subordinates to try the doors. The lackey finally figured how to open the pilot’s door and curiously played with the controls and buttons. He tripped the main power switch, activating the electronic gyro. The slow electrical windup suddenly turned into a high- pitched whir sending everyone scuttling for cover.

John snickered at the comic relief, but only briefly. He needed to get Steve back to safety, and he knew the natives would soon recover from the scare. He rose to help Steve and timidly headed toward the plane. John ducked as the leader turned in his direction and pointed the others to fan out. John knew the leader had sent out a search party. He pushed Steve down and jumped to his side, quickly pulling the poncho over them. At least the ponchos are green, John thought. Lying there, he heard the brush around him parting as a few people crept through it. They stopped within a few feet and talked. John could see their dirty feet from under the poncho and prayed they would leave before the sun revealed their hiding place.

Time passed slowly that morning. The natives searched for hours before finally leaving, or at least that’s what John hoped they’d done. The sun was higher in the sky and began burning off the rain water that fell the previous day. Once again fog and steam started to form, leaving John hoping for a gentle breeze to disperse it.

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 Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

The Secret Stays in the Cabin

     “Okay, I’ll demonstrate flying through these passages before these clouds get too low,” Steve yelled over the roaring engine. “Do you see the break in the mountains ahead? Fly to those, staying as far right as you can.”

      “I’m staying to the right, and I don’t mind telling you this is a little nerve racking.”

     “I’m with you, but this is the only way to some of the villages.” Steve knew John would have a hard time at first. “Just remember to stay to the right. That way if you find you may have mistakenly flown the wrong passage, you will have ample room on the left side for maneuvering.”

      “Well, I can tell you that this barely leaves enough to turn. I’d hate to have to make a hasty U-turn or other emergency procedures,” said John.

      There was only a mile of flying space between mountain–plenty of room for turning a car around, but an airplane is another story. The perception of speed was great as they passed within twenty-five feet of the mountain to the right. The trees and tree top houses were a blur along the mountain side.

      “About the U-turn you mentioned earlier,” Steve shouted. “About 18 years ago one of our own was flying a missionary family through a similar passage. They were headed south to do a revival near Agats. He was heading out of the Maoke Mountains, when he realized nothing looked familiar. He rationalized that he must have gone down the wrong valley.”

     “How come he didn’t climb out and get his bearings?” asked John.

     “Because of similar weather conditions. The pilot opted to continue the route. Visibility was horrible when suddenly a large object loomed before the plane. Instinctively, the pilot initiated a climbing turn hoping to fly back,” said Steve.

     “I guess since he was on one side of the valley, he made it okay,” John guessed.

     “No, he wasn’t. At that time, pilots were flying down the center to avoid being too close to a mountain; however, the rules have since changed. Anyway, what I am about to say to you must stay between us. It was given to me in good faith, but I feel you should know. Deal?”

     “It won’t leave this plane,” John pledged.

     “The pilot attempted the turn and almost made it, but the right wing clipped the trees, dragging the plane to the ground. There was only one survivor, and he was found a few days later still at the site. The pilot and Mr. and Ms. Heatherly died. Their son, Jason was the only survivor.”

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 Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

Leaving a Lasting Legacy-Be careful what you write (or post)

What's In Your Legacy 

A well known politician has been brought into accountability for something he wrote many years ago. In one of his novels he wrote about a graphic and violent act. Whether or not he intended it to be gratuitous or simply part of the developing storyline, he will now be known for writing something that has called into question his ability to lead.

I had a similar experience many years ago as I worked on my first novel. I had not dedicated myself to writing values based fiction at the time. However, once I had typed (yes on a typewriter) the first 80 pages, I decided to destroy the manuscript. It wasn't a hard choice, the manuscript was pure garbage. I did not want my legacy to be tainted by something that may have done well in the mainstream, but may have caused others to question my character. It definitely was not uplifting fiction and I had decided then and there to get rid of it. 

I try to write uplifting fiction that is thrilling to the reader. It can be done and many fine authors have done so. Heroes can be brave without compromising integrity or using gratuitous swearing, gore or sex. I have come to realize that and analyze not only the book cover, but between the pages. 

What kind of treasures are you storing? This above passage doesn't simply refer to money, but the kind of life we are leading and how we will be judged once we are gone. Make your decision now to live a life of character that can't be questioned. Don't compromise for the quick and easy gain, but hang in there for the long haul.

10 Second Hero

10 Second Hero

Writing is very rewarding. It is also surprising. Many people asked about how I came up with the characters in Commitment. You have asked questions like ..."where did they come from?" and "Are they reflection of real life people?" My answer is that very few characters in Under the Lontar Palm are based on real people. Most have evolved from the story.
The following is an example of a character that evolved and lived for about 10 seconds. He was a thought or a mental role I played as I tried to transition and introduce the miners to the village. However trivial I thought the character to be, others have commented on his importance. His 10 seconds left an impression. I'll introduce the passage again and hope you enjoy recalling the story.

Mist covered the early morning ground as a lone figure took his usual position under the overhang. The sentinel stared into the jungle watching until sunrise, waiting for the return of his wife and children. He didn’t know if they were alive or dead, but held to the hope that one day he would be reunited. Dew fell, dropping on large wet leaves, a
torturous reminder of the seconds ticking by. Pretty soon the sun would be up, and he would have to go on with his business. But until then, he would watch and wait.
Suddenly in the darkness, he saw a small movement. He couldn’t see shapes; they were still obscured by the cloak of darkness. But he was sure he had seen something. Yes, there it was again. This time there was more movement and sounds of shuffling feet.
Could it be? Is my family coming back? After all these years, the jungle was surrendering them. Very cautiously, he stood, and crept slowly over to them. He took care not to startle them into fleeing. They had been gone so long, he wasn’t sure they would recognize him.
His heart pounded and the lump in his throat grew until he thought he might suffocate. Still, onward he crept. He was so close now, within ten feet. Unable to contain himself, he leapt forward as a whimper of excitement, and a longing eternal moan rose from his breast. Instead of the waiting arms of his family, the last thing the sad man saw was the grimace of an unknown white jungle demon.

I hope that you have enjoyed this reflection. If you have any questions or comments, please do so here.

Prologue from Commitment-The Novel

PROLOGUE – 1969

“Raymond!” Marta screamed. Her heart threatened to leap through her chest and her lungs burned with exhaustion.

He can’t be dead, she thought. Even yesterday when the runner had limped out of the triple canopy forest bearing the bad news of Suman’s and Raymond’s deaths, she refused to believe.

Maybe he didn’t die. My husband isn’t a man of war.

Marta continued to sprint toward the four men bearing the bodies of two fallen comrades. She saw sadness, fatigue and shame on their faces.

He doesn’t look like Raymond, she thought with a spark of hope. She stopped just short of the tired and beaten men. But she knew it was him. His soul was gone, taking with it all his identifiable character and charm.

Her eyes focused on the gruesome puncture mark and dried blood on his thigh. It was too much. The knot gripping her stomach loosened and she became sick. She could barely feel herself fall on Raymond’s chest. It was as if she watched the scene from outside of her body. She heard her good friend Numah anguishing over her man’s equally lifeless body.

Marta couldn’t feel the arms of others trying to comfort her. Everything she had grown accustomed to now seemed foreign.

Who keeps screaming Raymond’s name? She couldn’t feel her body or hear her own screams. For the first time in her life, Marta was completely numb.