CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX #2
He was thoughtful for a moment then said, “I suppose because I do not see things that happen in this life as accidents…or how you say…random. Everything has a purpose. That is why what Makia do makes me so angry, and if I let the anger control me, I will kill every last one of them. Our first reaction is rarely the right one. But what is the answer? My son is dead because of their actions. I fight to believe there is purpose in it, even if I do not understand. So, there is war in me and I do not know what to do. Like Job in the scriptures, so much has been taken from me that I could curse God and live in anger. But I know I am not in control, and so I must trust,…like our lesson the other day with the children, the only thing that cannot be taken from me is my choice to respond.”
“I don’t understand, Janhu. How is there purpose in death, especially the death of people so young…
” I thought of Stahgan, a young man in his early twenties with so much potential.
Jonathan lying in that hospital bed, bandaged and bleeding, and fighting for his life.
What was the purpose of that? “I loved God with all my heart when I was young, but when I begged for Jonathan’s life and he still died, it was like God was punishing me for not being perfect. ”
“I thought that, too, when I was younger. But God does not punish…He disciplines, yes, to get our attention, to remove things in our heart that are not of Him…but punishment has already been made complete.”
“Is there a difference in discipline and punishment?” Was this just his way of living with a horrible tragedy? Splicing words to help him live with what is unbearable? He thought so differently from me. “I’ve always seen them as the same thing.”
“No. No, I don’t t’ink so. Discipline is a form of redirection, a practice in training someone to come into agreement, like when I train the children with their bows.
Discipline points to a greater future. Punishment is inflicting pain on someone because of the past. They are different.
Punishment has already been taken. Discipline is His way of keeping His own close. ”
“So why is God ‘disciplining’ you so much?”
“I do not know…lucky, I guess,” he said, shrugging, attempting humor.
We were silent, allowing the nightlife of the jungle to build around us like a symphony warming up for an epic production.
I didn’t know what to think, and I had never been very good at trusting anyone, let alone God. I knew I had to let go of my old thought patterns. My life up to this point had left me wound so tight, I didn’t have any space to even consider a different approach.
Could I, like Jahnu, see the tragedies in my life as purposeful?
Dad leaving, Jonathan dying—these things had certainly shaped the person I had become—but was it for good?
I was stronger because of them, but hardened.
I’d always just reacted to the things that life offered me—jump first, ask questions later.
I wondered if I could learn to respond, instead of react.
I’d never considered the difference, but since coming here, I’d grown more space in my soul—more healing than I ever thought possible.
I never thought about tragedies being anything but undesired inevitabilities of life.
But I liked the way Jahnu talked of his, like they were tools in God’s hand actively molding and shaping Jahnu into the man he was meant to be, even if he didn’t understand the process.
It seemed to help him live with the things that happened, and I wanted to find that same peace. I wanted to learn to trust again.
The silence continued, and my thoughts turned to the rollercoaster of information between the tribes.
At first it was the Hundi who were in the wrong, then I thought it was just a big misunderstanding.
Now, I knew Makia was obviously the guilty party, and as much as they’d like to cover their infraction, they needed to answer for their wrong. Punishment.
For the first time, I felt war was justified. I wanted revenge for Talmu and all the other Hundi who had died, but I knew that was just my emotions talking. Take emotions out of it, what was the responsible thing to do? I knew Jahnu was warring against the same two forces. React or respond?
How I knew his struggle.
Since Jonathan’s passing I had searched for vengeance.
Someone needed to answer for his senseless death.
It wasn’t until coming here and facing my own powerlessness that I realized, all this time, I had been enacting that vengeance on myself.
Keeping myself busy with saving as many lives as I could, taking on more responsibility than I needed, putting off my own happiness because I didn’t believe I deserved it.
Until now. Could I learn to live with the truth that accidents happen and there is no one to blame?
The thought was so enticing. I tired of carrying this weight, but I didn’t know how to put it down.
What would happen if I let go of the pain, the anger, the blame and allowed myself to have what I wanted?
That’s what scared me most of all, because for the first time in my life, I wanted something more than I’d ever wanted anything.
But the thing about life—the terrible, appalling, dreadful thing about life is, you don’t always get what you want.
Sometimes you just have to do what you must.
“Your man?” Jahnu asked.
“Greg,” I whispered, a bit shamefully.
“He will be worried for you,” he said stiffly, as if he’d had his own internal battle. “I will take you back myself, to Makia so they will see you are safe.”
“How do you know they won’t shoot at us, too?”
“I will take you as far as the border, and then…we shall say goodbye. You will walk the rest of the way to the village. They will not shoot their nurse, no?”
His grin was weak and I knew he was trying to use humor to cover his feelings.
But this was a good plan. This is what I’d wanted all along, wasn’t it?
I had to return. Had to bring to light Makia’s wrong and stop this ridiculous conflict.
Had to get back to Greg, and America, and my life.
But even as I settled this plan in my mind, I heard the screaming of my heart.
“No, they will not shoot their nurse.”