How I Went From Included To Invested In Waging Peace In Iraq | An Intern’s Perspective
July 11, 2011 by Anton · Comments Off

The definition of the word include is to place in an aggregate, class, or category. Being included is easy. I can be included in a conversation by merely being present at the right time or place. I can be included on an email chain even if I have no desire to be. I can be included in a church body or an organization without so much as lifting a finger.
The definition of the word invest is to use, give, or devote (time, talent, etc.), as for a purpose or to achieve something.
The main difference between involve and invest is the outcome of the action. Many times I have been involved in a conversation and have never invested my opinions, thoughts, or attention to reaching any outcome, let alone a positive one.
Many people talk about peace in the Middle East as if it is just going to happen. I, myself, was a member of that group. I talked about it, but said nothing of how or in what way I could make a difference. We do this because it feels good to be included. People everywhere include themselves in one people group or cause in order to gain identity. But real identity grows out of investment. And investment grows out of involvement.
My personal investment in the promotion of peace in the Middle East grew out of my involvement with the Preemptive Love Coalition. I first became interested when I met Cody Fisher, and he told me about his passion for the Iraqi and Kurdish people and the work Preemptive Love does to promote peace between communities at odds.
My involvement grew as I learned more about them and heard of their summer internship program. It slowly turned into investment over the course of the next year beginning when I liked their Facebook page. It grew when I would occasionally repost something that they put up and tell my friends about this awesome non-profit. This investment was nurtured through prayer for peace, and began to blossom when I applied to the internship program.

Now I am even more invested in promoting peace and spreading love (through graphic design) to a people who have suffered brokenness and hate for generations. It is through this I am beginning to see my true identity. I see where I fit into the picture, and I’m excited to watch that picture come together.
I’ve now been in Iraq for 5 weeks working as a design intern for Preemptive Love, and I’m amazed to see how many people want this peace that we sometimes talk so flippantly about. The best part is that it isn’t the unachievable fantasy I used to believe in. All it takes is a little investment. A dollar here, a tweet or status update there. Involvement can grow fairly easily (and sometimes unbeknownst to us) into investment. For me it started with a conversation and developed into a commitment.
By reading this entire post, you’ve already been included. Why not take it a step further?
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The Coalition does not exist without YOU. Together we are mending hearts. Together we are waging peace. Click “Donate Now!” and continue to INVEST in the future of Iraq. |
| Anton Warkentin is a graphic design intern for PLC (‘11) from Chapman University in Orange, CA. He spends his days in the office working on PLC’s brand & identity, apparel, advertisements and much more, and he considers this work to be a fusion of his two great passions: design and serving GOD. A slightly less important fact about Anton: his fraternity’s mascot is a unicorn, which also happens to be his favorite animal. |
Mohammed Is Here For The Remedy
June 29, 2011 by Alex · Leave a Comment

Today, I hesitated outside the entrance of the hospital ward in southern Iraq. Kids spend most of the day waiting for surgery in this room.
Mothers and their children filled the room, and I didn’t want to barge into a room that these families might have thought were off-limits to outsiders.
But as I stood there, recognizing that I was the outsider, looking confused and out-of-place, a 6-year-old boy named Mohammed walked up, smiled, and took my hand as if he knew exactly what I was going through.
He safely escorted me to the back of the room so I could meet the family I had come to see.
Mohammed never left my side, but just kept holding my hand and making me feel more at-ease until he felt that his duty had been completed.
We couldn’t speak to each other and even though we interacted for only a few minutes, I can’t help but to look forward to spending more time with Mohammed.
What makes me more excited is that Mohammed isn’t just here to help out this goofy foreigner; he’s here to have his failing heart restored.
He’s here for the Remedy.
The doctors are still unclear as to how complicated Mohammed’s heart condition is, but they’re beginning the tests that will help them know what needs to be done to reclaim his heart.
In the meantime, we’ll just keep waiting.
Stay tuned for more updates on Mohammed.
While you wait check out Rokya’s Mom documenting her daughter’s Remedy in Iraq on our Facebook page.
Our Partners:

| Alex Phillips, a two-time PLC summer intern ('10 & '11), has invested his heart into the surgical and medicinal aid available to the children of Iraq, hoping to better understand the complicated ties between poverty and health. On his off days, Alex spends his time reading up on his field, listening to punk rock, riding his bike, and updating his Twitter: @_alexphillips. |
How Caring for Iraqi Children Made Me A Better Father
June 16, 2011 by Jeremy · 1 Comment
It’s interesting how my perspectives on people who are different than me have changed since the run-up to the Iraq war in 2002. I remember sitting rapt in front of the television watching Hans Blix look for weapons of mass destruction. I remember skipping class one Tuesday afternoon and watching coverage of the war, the fall of Baghdad, and the subsequent “Mission Accomplished” speech. I distinctly remember the Sunday night that news of Saddam Hussein’s capture interrupted my weekly viewing of Alias – a spy show that no doubt fed my ambivalence toward the very real people of Iraq.
But when I visited Iraq for the first time three years into the war, at the height of the sectarian violence, I was entirely unprepared for how much I would actually care about the people of Iraq; how much I would be moved and changed by their story.
The single greatest change in my life between that night when we saw Saddam groveling in a hole and the night that I wept bitterly in Kirkuk over nemesis neighbors bent on killing one another was the birth of my little girl, Emma.
I wasn’t ready to be a dad. I loved my young-married life with my wife. She was all I had dreamed about and I loved our freedom. We traveled the world together, listened to music that was actually cool, read books with big words, and enjoyed many long walks and talks without interruption each week. All of that was severely threatened when we found out we were pregnant.
I was excited, but certainly scared – mostly about what bearing this new child would have on our marriage. I wasn’t ready to give up freedom and travel for monosyllabic books like See Spot Run.
But that first day in Dr. Hidayet’s office when we heard Emma’s heartbeat… that was a life-changing moment! And as they wheeled my wife away a few months later on a gurney beyond those double doors in Istanbul, Turkey I was terrified that something would go wrong in this foreign country.
I was actually in the room for my daughter’s birth. I held her within seconds of her first breath. And one of the most amazing moments of my life was the first minutes we had alone together in a Turkish corridor as all the chaos of the hospital disappeared and I watched my daughter look at me for the first time.
I guess my point is this: becoming a father changed me.
So when I arrived in Iraq with my daughter and my wife in 2007, I was not the same person who had watched the news on Iraq with disconnected interested years prior. I was a father now. And with that came a special code of conduct – a code that transcends culture.
I didn’t see “Iraqis” or even “Muslims”. Arabs weren’t “rag heads” like some of my friends and family had suggested. Kurds were not these disempowered mountain Turks that I had grown up seeing with Klashnikovs on CBS News in 1990.
I mostly just saw fathers. Most of the media coverage of our work in Iraq suggests that we are caring for the children of Iraq, healing their hearts, and creating a better future for them. I certainly agree. But I have a slightly broader agenda: I see myself as caring for the fathers of Iraq.
I’ve sat by too many dads as they’ve tried to choke back tears in hopes of remaining strong and faithful to the belief that God is in control. I hate that sound – the sound of grief choking.
So I work each day to care – not only for the children in Iraq – but for the fathers in Iraq, as well. Because I am one. And my caring has actually made me a better father for my own children. As I consider each day how many of my father-friends have lost their little boys and girls, it helps me value every minute I have with my children more deeply. Caring for the fathers of Iraq helps me remember what a blessing my children are to me. I came home from work a little late last Thursday night and spent an extra hour laying in bed with my son telling stories, tickling, and dreaming up imaginary exploits that Batman and Superman together would be afraid to touch – but not us! I spent this extra time with my son because I had a need that only he could fill for me. I didn’t think I was doing him a favor. I was keenly aware that he was making me whole, filling up what was lacking in me after a long day of working for other fathers and their little boys.
The bio sketches of our organization and my role in it will probably continue to talk about the way we’ve changed Iraq by establishing lifesaving heart hospitals across the country through our Remedy Missions. But the truth is even more profound. I am now connected to the people of Iraq as a father and a friend; as a big brother and an uncle that works joyfully in hopes that other people from around the world will come to love them as I do.

I’m not sure yet what my legacy in Iraq will be – if anything. But Iraq’s legacy in the life of my family is clear. This Father’s Day we celebrate how the dads of Iraq have shaped our family and how loving them has brought us closer.
Dad, I love all the great memories we’ve made together. This year, I wanted to add, “saving a child’s life in Iraq” to the list, so that another child and his father can make great memories together too. |
We want to make it easy for you to honor your dad this Father’s Day and help save the life of baby Ghazel. A simple $10 donation will help us save her life and cover the cost of two hours of hands-on training with local Iraqi surgeons! A $25 donation will accomplish that and add hours of training in Iraq for an additional three Iraqi doctors and nurses! If you like, we’ll even provide you with a free downloadable card that you can print and give to your dad this Father’s Day! |
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Jeremy Courtney lives and loves in Iraq as a co-founder and Executive Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He's also the father of two spectacular children, and married to the lovely Jessica Courtney. When not absorbed in PLC work he can be found writing songs and singing about hope and future. Follow Jeremy on Twitter: @JCourt. |
Respect
May 22, 2011 by Lydia · 1 Comment

A little bit of respect goes a long way. I’ve never learned that lesson so clearly and so wonderfully as I did tonight at the hospital.
I’m the first girl to travel with PLC into southern Iraq, and the Courtneys warned me ahead of time: southern Iraq is serious about modesty. “Did you know your ankles are ‘sexy’?” Jess joked in an email to me, explaining the need to be covered all the way to my toes. She wanted me to dress in a completely non-threatening way because she wanted the women to be comfortable around me while I interact with and photograph their children.
So I stepped off the airplane in Basra wearing a floor length black maxi dress, a loose, long sleeve black shirt, and a black head scarf. “Arabica?” the woman at passport control asked. Nope. At one point in the 2-hour car ride from Basra one of our security guards turned to me and asked, “Do you wear the hijab in America, too?” He was surprised when I said I didn’t and asked why would I wear it here, then. Jeremy answered: “Respect.”
It was at the hospital that I most understood how beautiful a little respect can be. As I entered the children’s ward I was (predictably) swarmed by precious Iraqi kids wanting their picture taken. From experience I knew their mothers lingered behind doorways, away from the camera. But this time one mother approached me, motioned to her child, and I snapped my camera.
It just took that one and then all of the mothers were clamoring for photos with their kids! They touched my skirt and my head scarf and interrogated me excitedly in Arabic about my outfit. Picture after picture–not only of women but of them smiling boldly at the camera, proud mothers. I have never experienced anything like it and I am certain that my dress had much to do with it.
By letting go of a bit of “me” and taking on a bit of “them” I saw firsthand what an incredible tool respect can be. I’m VERY excited for this week of Remedy–both remedy for the health of these kids and the remedy of divisive misconceptions.
Our Partners:

| Lydia Bullock wrote and photographed for us during the 2010 summer internship and then again for 7 months in 2011. She documented surgical missions in northern and southern Iraq. See more of her excellent work on our Flickr stream, or follow her on Twitter: @lydiabullock. |
17 Heart Felt Thank You’s Coming Your Way From Iraq!
March 20, 2011 by Cody · 1 Comment

We’re just now wrapping up our fourth Remedy Mission in Iraq and we have 17 heart felt thank you’s to send your way from the families who got the chance to see their children receive the heart surgery they’ve been waiting for!
(Go ahead, you can stand up and celebrate. We did!)
Now what?
Now we do it all over again! All over Iraq. Until every heart is mended!
Why?
So that girls like Ala can receive the surgery that she needs to be a strong and healthy little girl!
Ala was on the schedule for this past Remedy but she had to go home because there wasn’t enough time to save her, like we all had hoped.
Now we’re doing everything we can to turn that hope into a reality.
YOU can help us save Ala by joining us and helping bring Remedy back to her!
It’s easier than you think. Just click HERE!
If you’re on Twitter this week be sure to use the #RemedyMission hashtag to describe all the good news coming out of Iraq this week via @preemptivelove.
With help from our friends:

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Cody Fisher is the co-founder and Development Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He moved to Iraq in 2007 where he met his wife and since then they've been waging peace and mending hearts across Iraq. His passions are photography, peacemaking, and food that doesn't come out of a can. You can follow him on Twitter: |
This Morning, Our First Two Children Checked Out Of The Hospital With Healthy Hearts Thanks To Mending Kids International!
March 6, 2011 by Cody · 2 Comments

We exist to be an alliance for good.
Every heart surgery, every relationship, and every step we take towards developing the health care of Iraq is only made possible because of those standing alongside us.
One of those organizations that we LOVE being able to work with is Mending Kids International.
Mending Kids International provides life-changing surgical care to children worldwide. In the past five years, they have helped provide over 500 life-saving surgeries for children in 39 different countries!
To see the beautiful story of one of those children, Berhanu from Ethiopia, click HERE.
This week we are proud to have Mending Kids International stand alongside us as they made it possible for us to save the lives of Jafar, Mohammed, and Yasna.
This morning we got to see two of those children, Jafar and Mohammed, check out of the hospital with healthy hearts!
Hope. Love. Mend.
That’s what Mending Kids International continues to do and we’re incredibly grateful for the hope, love, and mended hearts that were given to Jafar, Mohammed, and Yasna’s families and communities this week!
We love that they’re a part of the Coalition!
You can join Jafar, Mohammed, and Yasna by thanking Mending Kids International on Facebook by clicking HERE!
If you’re on Twitter this week be sure to use the #RemedyMission hashtag to describe all the good news coming out of Iraq this week via @preemptivelove.
With help from our friends:

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Cody Fisher is the co-founder and Development Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He moved to Iraq in 2007 where he met his wife and since then they've been waging peace and mending hearts across Iraq. His passions are photography, peacemaking, and food that doesn't come out of a can. You can follow him on Twitter: |
Death Will Never Conquer
March 4, 2011 by Jeremy · 5 Comments

Yahya passed away early this morning after an all-night surgery. It was a surprise to everyone. When he was admitted to the ICU there seemed to be plenty of confidence that he would be just fine. But within just 30 minutes of admission his heart gave out and all efforts to revive him failed.
I still remember the first time I was introduced to Yahya. It was over a year ago. His uncle called my cell phone and said, “I’m at your office, I need to talk to you about a sick kid.”
It was after hours and I was already at home. But I could hear the urgency in his voice so I invited him to my home for tea. He arrived and made an impassioned plea for Yahya – his brother’s son. I was leery of helping Yahya after reading his reports – we had seen some children with complex heart defects like him die abroad and I couldn’t stand to put a family through that drama again. I did my best to avoid commitment and send Yahya’s uncle into the night without any solid hope for his nephew.
The following weeks were filled with phone calls and followup from the family, “Please help our boy!”
Finally, I met Yahya’s mom and dad and the little cutie himself. As they sat in my office they pled with humble urgency. They weren’t forceful. They weren’t rude. But they applied enough pressure on me that I couldn’t say “no” any longer. They made it abundantly clear that they understood the risk of his surgery and that they wanted it badly enough to endure whatever might come.
One of our core values as an organization is that we give “hope to the hopeless.” What that means is that we try to balance our impulse to be “last chance” people with our instinct to be “long-term” people. We held back on Yahya, wondering if it would give him long-term viability. But we ultimately dove in with Yahya’s family because we were their last chance. No one else would take on the risk.
We solidified this core value in November 2009 when we asked you what to do about a little boy named Ramyar. We asked you if you wanted us to apply your money in a high risk surgery or save it for a “sure thing.” You overwhelming said, “We want this Coalition to be about hope for the hopeless.”
We haven’t looked back since. We are the Last Chancers.
Still, committing to Yahya was full of complications. His surgery in Turkey was canceled due to an unavailability of an expensive assistant device. In fact, there was even discussion as to whether or not he should be included in our current Remedy Mission. Ultimately, we let the family themselves decide.
Our local cardiologist, along with our American surgeon, explained the risks of surgery, the option of waiting, etc. etc. Yahya’s dad was given a 50/50 chance of survival for little Yahya. Understandably, they wanted to give it a try. They couldn’t stand the risk of feeling like they had an opportunity to try and let it slip through their hands.
What would you have done? I have two kids – 5 and 3 years old. I have no idea what I would have done.
During Yahya’s surgery our Family Services Director, Jessica, sat down in the ward with all the parents whose kids were either in surgery or in critical condition in the ICU – those families whose kids were not “out of the woods” yet. As they asked questions about our organization and how long we’ve been working here, she recounted for them our past of taking children outside the country to significantly nicer hospitals than this Iraqi version in which we currently work. She told them about excellent American-trained Turkish doctors and fancy, pristine protocols abroad. Without fail, every family was so grateful for the chance to receive surgery at home. Let the Turks have their pristine hospital. “What if our child were to die abroad?” That would be a burden far too great to bear.
You gave Yahya’s family a chance that no one else would have. He had been rejected by every other opportunity out there. They are grateful to you. They will rest knowing they gave it their all for their only child.
And this is what we find almost universally – parents who just want a chance. And that’s what Remedy Missions are all about. We could continue to export kids to world class facilities, but who would invest in the future? We could continue to select the easiest children that almost never die, but does that make us any less culpable for the kids we pretend aren’t knocking on our door?
Was this a wasted opportunity? Did we waste the $670 that it cost us to provide Yahya surgery?
I used to feel that way when a child died in Turkey or Jordan or Jordan. I don’t feel that way anymore. Yahya’s death – though a terrible loss – was still an opportunity for local doctors to learn an innovative technique that they will be able to apply in future situations. His death was almost certainly unrelated to the particular tactic used in attempting to heal his heart. Educational gains always have significant costs. Before we only had the “we gave this child a chance” platitude. It’s not untrue. But local learning is an equally deep reason why your gift for Yahya made a difference.
Thank you for your willingness to stick with us through life and death. The gains that are needed here will not be made without significant risk and vision. We deeply appreciate your demand that we be the people of the last chance. I think it’s easier to sleep knowing we tried, than knowing we played it safe just so we could publish numbers and blog posts that seem more palatable.
With you,
Jeremy Courtney
Executive Director
email: http://scr.im/jcourt
+1 (806) 853-9131
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Jeremy Courtney lives and loves in Iraq as a co-founder and Executive Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He's also the father of two spectacular children, and married to the lovely Jessica Courtney. When not absorbed in PLC work he can be found writing songs and singing about hope and future. Follow Jeremy on Twitter: @JCourt. |
It’s The Day Before Parzheen’s Surgery And She Can’t Wait To Run!
March 2, 2011 by Cody · 2 Comments

Meet Parzheen.
She’s four and a half years old and was born with a congenital heart defect that wasn’t discovered until she was three years old.
If you ran into this beautiful girl outside of the hospital, you probably wouldn’t even notice that she had a heart defect.
It wouldn’t be until you saw her run, play, and laugh that you would notice how quickly she became tired. A year and a half from now you would notice it when she wouldn’t be able to walk to school with the rest of the children. When she’s at school, you would notice her not having the strength to stay awake in class.
But tomorrow Parzheen is being given the surgery that’s going to change all of that!
It will let her run to school.
It will let her interact with her classmates at school.
It will give her the chance to try out that jump rope that she’s never had the strength to conquer.
It will save her life.
Parzheen goes into surgery in the next few hours.
Stay with us as we follow her story!
If you’re on Twitter this week be sure to use the #RemedyMission hashtag to describe all the good news coming out of Iraq this week via @preemptivelove.
With help from our friends:

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Cody Fisher is the co-founder and Development Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He moved to Iraq in 2007 where he met his wife and since then they've been waging peace and mending hearts across Iraq. His passions are photography, peacemaking, and food that doesn't come out of a can. You can follow him on Twitter: |
Ajeen And Haymen Are Going To Change The Future Of Healthcare In Iraq
March 1, 2011 by Cody · 1 Comment

Today I had the chance to sit down and chat with Ajeen and Haymen, two young ICU nurses in Northern Iraq.
Haymen is living his dream. After his father died in 1991 from heart disease, he dedicated his life and career to taking care of others with the same condition. It wasn’t until 2005, when the nursing college began to accept males due to the huge demand for nurses in Iraq, that he actually got to do what we had wanted to do all along…mend hearts.
Ajeen was placed in the nursing college by the government but from day one, she knew she was going to love it.
“I love working in the ICU because I know I’m doing something worthwhile. I know I’m helping”, she said as she kept glancing at her patient, lying on a bed next to her.
Haymen was finishing his eight hour shift. “This is so beautiful, to have these teams here. They work so hard. They never leave a patient’s side unless they know they’re completely taken care of.”
Ajeen pitched in, “They never stop. It’s like they never get tired of taking care of these children. Because of them being here though, now these children can live. Now they have a chance. They don’t have to go overseas to be operated on.”
I asked Haymen what he’s learned today and he immediately answered back, “Yesterday, to give these children more oxygen in their lungs after their operation, I was hitting their back with my hands. I would feel awful because it was hurting the children and it wasn’t even giving them anymore oxygen. Today, they taught me a better way. They taught me to use an oxygen mask to gently pound up and down their back and it didn’t hurt the children! Their lungs got more oxygen than I ever knew how to give them. I’m learning so much from them.”
“They’re teaching us to become great nurses”, Haymen said proudly.
“I have so many questions for them, I’m only waiting for a chance to ask them all.”
Why do we believe in Remedy Missions? Because we believe in Ajeen and Haymen.
To show your support for Ajeen and Haymen and become a part of the Remedy, join our community of lifesavers by clicking HERE!
If you’re on Twitter this week be sure to use the #RemedyMission hashtag to describe all the good news coming out of Iraq this week via @preemptivelove.
With help from our friends:

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Cody Fisher is the co-founder and Development Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He moved to Iraq in 2007 where he met his wife and since then they've been waging peace and mending hearts across Iraq. His passions are photography, peacemaking, and food that doesn't come out of a can. You can follow him on Twitter: |
How Remedy Missions Are Inspiring Locals To Bring The Remedy To Others
February 28, 2011 by Cody · 1 Comment

chain reaction: (n.) a series of events in which each event is the result of the one preceding and the cause of the one following
This is little Yasna.
She was born with a heart defect that keeps her lungs from receiving all the blood and oxygen that she needs to live strong.
At two months old, they had no idea about her heart problem but when she had to go in for an abdominal surgery the doctors noticed something wasn’t right with her heart.
The local doctors told her mother that she would need to save up to take Yasna to India for surgery. Already two months old, the doctors told her that she only had four more months to get her surgery until her condition would worsen and make her inoperable.
6 months passed and she had only a fraction of the amount saved up.
6 more months passed and soon she was 2 years old and the parents had come to live with the fact that their daughter was too old to be saved.
Last August, Yasna’s mother’s cell phone ran and she heard about a team of doctors coming in to bring a remedy for children exactly like hers - children others thought were inoperable.
She brought Yasna in for surgery but because of the amount of “inoperable” children waiting in line for their operations, the doctors ran out of time and Yasna had to go home without a surgery.
Because of YOU, that was only the first Remedy Mission of many and last week they were called to the hospital again…this time they were second in line for surgery!
I asked Yasna’s mother what it was like to finally hand her daughter over to surgeons that knew how to fix her heart. She said, “So beautiful.”
She continued, “One day, God-willing, not only will our doctors know how to take care of all the children here but our country will be the country who sends doctors and nurses to other countries to help their children.”
And so the chain reaction continues!
You’re bringing remedy which is stirring up hearts in Iraq to turn around and bring the remedy to others.
How will you keep the momentum going as Yasna goes into surgery today?
Join us on Facebook and follow her story!
If you’re on Twitter this week be sure to use the #RemedyMission hashtag to describe all the good news coming out of Iraq this week via @preemptivelove.
With help from our friends:

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Cody Fisher is the co-founder and Development Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He moved to Iraq in 2007 where he met his wife and since then they've been waging peace and mending hearts across Iraq. His passions are photography, peacemaking, and food that doesn't come out of a can. You can follow him on Twitter: |















