Happy New Year, Rump

     December 31 marks the end of a year for us all. For Karin Rumpza, it also marks the end of another year of life. For the sake of our friendship, I will not mention how many years of life she has had; however, next year the first digit will change. Let me tell you about my friend.

     The last name, Rumpza, has left her open to a variety of nick-names; Rump Roast, Rump Shaker,etc. I just call her Rump. I feel comfortable saying that the girl is a mess; the reason being that I am a bigger mess. Over the last dozen years or so, I have had a number of heartbreaks and upheavals in my life. With uncanny precision, the worst of the painful events in my life occurred when Rump was out of the country...God has a wicked sense of humor. I had other friends that were compassionate and comforting but it wasn't the same; I needed Rump. Those of you who know Rump must understand why. For those of you who don't, I'll tell you why.

     Rump meets upsets in her own life with great passion and when a friend is in need she commits that passion to the other person. With her humor and understanding (I almost wrote, "patience," Ha!) she adopts the pain and therefore lessens the suffering of her friend; in many cases, me. There is a special comfort she offers; I believe it is due to the deep and inherent goodness of her soul. But that's not all there is to Rump.

     She is funny, very funny. Much of her humor is unintentional. One early memory I have of Rump happened at work. Several of us ladies were sitting in the locker-room chatting and laughing. In all sincerity, Rump stood on a bench; with her arms spread wide and a room full of people looking up at her, she declared, "I hate being the center of attention."  Another episode took place when we were hiking the Superstition mountains; in Phoenix...in July. Rump disregarded my advice to wear a hat and bring lots of water. After a few hours of hiking she asked, "Is this a good time to tell you I'm out of water?" There is no good time to say those words. We both feared we were lost (and we were) and began to take shortcuts through the thorny brush. Being as coordinated as ever, I stumbled into a plant that broke off in my knee. I later learned this type of plant has poison in the tips. As we tramped and limped through the desert, Rump heard her first rattle snake. At this point I was having great difficulty walking. Good friend that she is, when Rump heard the snake, she pushed my from behind screaming, "Get out of my way!" She left me in the dust with one good leg to escape the diamondback. She did redeem herself, however when we finally sat and she pulled the tip of the plant from my knee. She saved me that day; and on so many others.

     I am writing this off the top of my head thereby making it impossible for the reader to truly appreciate Rump. I am writing for two reasons: First, because I didn't get her a gift. Rump, this is your present. Secondly, because I want people to know how important you are; not just to me but to the world. Rump (and Kari) worked at a refugee camp in Ghana for a month to help people who literally had nothing but the clothes on their backs. She volunteered in Haiti after the earthquake and helped people who had lost everything. She is an advocate and volunteer at the Welcome to America Project in Phoenix, helping to feed and clothe refugees who had to flee their homes in order to survive. Through her benevolent actions, she has instilled this sense of duty to humanity in others; myself included. Her kindness and generosity are surpassed only by her compassion. 

     Rump has her faults and over the years we have had a tiff or two, yet there is nothing she can do to diminish my opinion of her. From me to you, Rump: Thank you. You have helped and inspired me more than you know and from the bottom of my heart, I offer my gratitude and respect. I love you, my friend. Happy Birthday, Rump.

     

                                                     

                                                                    For the Families of MH370

     You are angry; and you have a right to be. You are afraid; and you have a right to be. You are confused, lost, and physically ill; and you have a right to be. You have a right to any feelings you have at this time. From my little corner of the world, so far away, I too am afraid, confused, and scared. To say I understand your feelings is a lie, and you've been lied to enough. By enduring what you have over the past 5 days, you have more strength than I can ever hope to have. I admire you. I respect you. And I am angry with you. 

     Every hour or so, a "breaking" news report is released with some astonishing development, only to be refuted the next hour. Today we find out that the aircraft changed direction at last verbal contact but was visible on radar for another hour or so. Today we found that out yet the airline new about it days ago. And when I say "we" I really mean "we" as I fear you are discovering new information in the same manner as the rest of the world; via Internet or television. That is just so wrong. I wish I had a better vocabulary to describe just how wrong it is. 

     I read an article just now, which may or may not be correct, that said a few senior managers from the airline came to give you folks a briefing. Some threw water bottles and one man said "All Malaysians are liars." I immediately thought that's wrong. However, when I let it sink in for a moment I scolded myself for judging you people. How do I know I wouldn't do the same thing if someone I love was on that plane? Unless we are standing beside you, how do any of us know?

     Many of us all over the world are standing beside you in thought and spirit; some in prayer. Trying to make sense of what is happening must come second to letting you know that there is a sense of humanity in the world. Geographical boundaries do not matter. What matters is we are all individual persons who share the bond of humanness. Language, culture, nationality, religion, or skin color matter not. You, the families of those who boarded flight 370, are important. You matter. Your feelings matter. And when you are feeling confused and alone, remember that the humanity of the world stands beside you.