The Nativity of Jessica Stricker

Jessica, your dad and I were living in Sinop, Turkey where your dad was a military MP on a small (then secret) base jutting out into the Black Sea. I was 19 years old and not about to go back to the states when we found out you were coming. I was actually the last to get the official news, because there is no better system of communication than the grapevine on a small military outpost isolated from the world. By the time the test results trickled down to me, everyone on the base knew you were coming. And for the next nine months, they all worked to ease your way. I think you became a symbol of why they were half way around the world from home, missing their own wives and children. They showed us pictures and told us stories and even gave up their own vacation time so that your dad could spend as much time with me as possible before your arrival.

Three weeks before you were due, they put us on a cargo plane (C-130) that was going to Adana in southern Turkey, where there was an Air Force Base with a hospital. I joined a group of military wives from bases all over, and we each waited our turn to deliver. It was during the 1974 uprising on Cyprus, and the US government was angry that Turkey was using NATO weapons to fight. But the Turks saw the weapons as their property given in exchange for their commitment to participate, and were very offended by US demands. I offer that piece of history in case you ever read about it in books—we were very aware of both sides of that reality, and it may have affected my own religious pilgrimage more that any other single factor I can think of.

The day before you were born your dad and I traveled into Syria (your dad informed me recently—I never new we left Turkey) and climbed up to a castle on a hill, which you’ve seen slides of. The exercise must have excited you, and by 5 the next morning you let me know you were on your way out. Unfortunately, you didn’t communicate as well to the hospital people They kept insisting that you wouldn’t be arriving that day as I had previously predicted you would. But at 11:47pm you did make your way into the world, and you couldn’t have chosen any more pleased parents than we two waiting to greet you.

Two days after your birth, we set out on our trip back home to Sinop. The hospital people assumed (I am sure) we would drive to the airport, get on a military plane and be taken back to whatever base we had come from. But your dad was not stationed at a base with facilities for families, therefore you and I had no status. Sinop was the last stop for the plane, so coming from Sinop had not been a problem. Going back, the plane was puddle jumping and dropping people at bases all over, leaving no room for you and me. (Insert appropriate Christmas music at this point.)

It took us three days to make it home by way of public transportation after your birth. Not having planned on so much travel, we ran out of money at one point and had to borrow from some other GI’s in order to have bus fare for the last leg of the trip. You lived in the cardboard box provided by the hospital for your first four months, and you were well protected and cared for by Turks and Americans in equal measure.

Thanks for asking me to write this. It has made me aware of how much of the story isn’t included. I’ll have to work on that.
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