Using my life as a pattern, I see this, but, of course, in a different way. I spent decades in charitable ventures. After my first divorce, I went to the Balkans and spent time under the radar trying to help war victims find shelter, clothing and food while the Kosovars were duking it out with others. I was there as a human without a political or religious stance.
My research skills and connections with other countries increased the survival rate some. Then I was found out, nearly shot until they found out I was American, and consequently sent home.
We can’t say I was deported mainly because I wasn’t officially there. The one thing America did as punishment was take away my passport for ten years. We could say I deserved that. I didn’t follow the rules. I’m just glad they let me come back instead of denying that privilege.
I’m glad I went, though. It made me happy to help families that had no agenda.
This led me to my next stage in life. When I came back to the U.S., I tried to fit in. While I picked a great outlet working for UNMC in Omaha, I left there after a while because working in an office was a bit confining for me. I launched out in other ways and a series of further events brought me to homelessness and financial devastation.
That led me to an American reprise working with the homeless, helping to make sure they were fed and clothed, and very often helping them find homes.
Then I had a stroke, followed by others.
That period in my life, though, was incredibly satisfying. I wasn’t noted for anything important or newsworthy, but my ability to help others was important in and of itself. It’s how I bought time.