Asia – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

Airport kiosks of the sparser variety often feature elevated circular tables so travelers can munch their edibles while standing. My new South Asia friend had moved to such a table, his modest lunch in hand. Adjusting his backpack, he had a glance around. Suddenly, he paused – shifting his gaze to the beverage in his hand.

No straw.

Taking in the customers around him, he realized all their drinks did include sipping straws, each one poised as if standing at attention within the respective drinks. The travel-worn student’s heart sank.

The kiosk attendant did not give me a straw, Dheeraj moaned inwardly. Surely it is because they do not like my being here. In this place. . . this country.

Reining in his gathering gloom, Dheeraj returned his focus to the checkout counter, noting the small stack of napkins from which he had earlier retrieved his own. He then noticed a newly served customer fetching one for himself. Turning, the gentleman pressed a finger to a metal device near at hand. From this device, a bright, fresh sipping straw magically appeared!

Relief washed over Dheeraj.

Ann and I flashbacked to our own skewed perceptions when arriving in Kenya as youngsters – our first foreign country of residence. Excitement and angst, wonder and trepidation ran the gamut, having a roller coaster field day. (Having grown up in an era of “Me Tarzan–You Jane” movies, I was half-surprised that our Jumbo Jet set down on paved tarmac, rather than a dirt landing strip!

In time our TU ministry team offered cultural orientation sessions for new arrivals coming in from abroad. We relished witnessing the ‘lights come on’, seeing anxieties dissipate even as we handed out copies of a perfectly-labeled booklet, How To Survive In The United States.

In time, opportunities arose where we could pass along treasured phrases from an ancient era, that proved as relevant today as at any time ever,

“Be anxious for nothing*. . . “Do not fear, I am with you**”

“I hustled”.

The strong declaration sprang from my father’s lips. Clyde Baxter Lout was near seventy and I near forty as we chatted. Morning coffee had brewed and I was offering up questions about his early years as a working man.

“Hustle” is an old word. It comes with several different meanings. My father used it for just one.

He applied the term the way Collins English Dictionary does – “If someone hustles, they try hard to earn money or to gain an advantage from a situation.”

Counted among my closer friends are several engineers who came to America’s shores as students from far away places. . . Asia, the Middle East, elsewhere. They hustled.

Getting schooled in Oklahoma, most had arrived at Tulsa University after finishing undergraduate work in their own homelands. Making their way to my state from places few Oklahomans ever see – Bangalore, Beijing, Chenai, Tehran, these friends had grown up in cultures separated by long miles and diverse languages. But they carried this thing in common.

In their daily hustle, the bright young men labored energetically, sacrificing sleep, going after carefully-defined goals.

They apprenticed.

In time job fairs came along. Industries took notice. Meanwhile, for several of the internationals, another kind of shift had come. Discovering the Christian faith through friends in Tulsa, a number trusted their lives to Jesus. So life in another dimension began. A bigger life, one in Jesus’ kingdom.

On the other hand Clyde Baxter had started off as an orphan.

Though lacking formal schooling beyond tenth grade (cotton fields calling him to scratch out a living in the great depression years), he hustled. Fleeing Oklahoma poverty on rumbling freight trains, he moved westward, and landed his first California job as a ditch digger. When a “plumber’s helper” ad caught his attention, the young Okie went for an interview.

“Young man, if you will give energy and attention to it, we will make you an apprentice.”

“What is an apprentice?”

Tag: Asia

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