There are times when you hear stories that make you feel humble and insignificant (read: every day of my life), and I thought I would share one with you: 

 A client of mine , E., recently got back from Libya- that’s right, LIBYA- where she was volunteering as a nurse in the city of Bengazi, the rebel-controlled stronghold.  Libya?!  You might know Libya from such shows as Khaddafi Duck; Oil, Oil, Toil, and Trouble; and CSI: Misrata Files.

Libya?!  Amazing, right?  My client, E., is pretty amazing- taking a month off from the security and comfort of her life in Maine to help some people who are fighting- literally- for their lives.  There’s nothing like caring for someone’s rocket/grenade/tank inflicted wound to put into perspective the picayune pettiness of our quotidian quibbles.  I felt a little dumb for complaining that my home wireless network wasn’t working with my iPhone when I heard about what she had been doing over the summer.  Woe is we, indeed.

The unexpectedly funny thing?  The rebel soldiers were enthralled by her tattoos because they had never seen a modern, color tattoo.  E. said that some of the wounded rebels- rebels recently shot by a rocket/grenade/tank- were getting up from their gurneys and taking pictures of themselves with her tattoos.  A lot.

Did I expect E. would love her tattoo?  I sure hoped so.  Did I ever think that Libyan rebels would be admiring my work and taking pictures of themselves with it?  No way.

It’s the little thing that you never think of that may have some impact on someone somewhere in an unforeseen way.

Maybe we can all live our lives with this thought in mind.

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