Tragedy in Mumbai
Trip Start
Feb 07, 2009
1
2
12
Trip End
Feb 21, 2009
Covington,
Georgia,
United States
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
phone from my mom. Assuming she was wondering what time I was arriving
for Thanksgiving dinner, I listened halfheartedly (and half awake), until I
heard the gravity of her tone. There had been terrorist attacks in India.
Bombing was going on, and Americans and Brits were being hunted down.
Great. Just the kind of news I want to hear about on a day devoted to
giving thanks for all the good things in our lives. My heart sank.
Not for concern about the trip, but for all the people in India
who were panicking, in pain, and experiencing true horrors beyond my
imagination.
When I did arrive at my parents' house a few hours later, the TV was of
course turned to CNN, and images of Mumbai and scrolling news alerts
were flashing across the screen. It truly was depressing.
It had only been 9 days since booking my trip, but already I had done a
lot of reading and researching about the area, the different cultures,
and the hospital we would be working in. I had already grown
attached to the people I would be meeting and the experiences I would
be having. My heart wept thinking of the devastation, the
violence, and the senseless killing that was occurring. Listening
to interviews with survivors, hearing them talk about seeing so many
bodies...my imagination ran wild trying to comprehend it all. But
it simply couldn't.
A thousand conversations happened throughout the day as we gathered
with family to celebrate and give thanks: Mumbai was on the other side
of the country from where I was planning to go, security would be much
more strict following this event, what is the rest of the group
thinking about now?, it's good to be aware of your surroundings and
exceedingly cautious, etc. I can't say that fear ever swept
through me. Not for myself, at least. Deep sadness for all
involved, and for our world as a whole, broken as it is. But the
only fear I had was flashes of worst-case scenarios that ran through my
mind. If we were to get attacked, how would I respond? As
the "assigned" pastor of the group, how would I comfort and protect the
others? If caught and asked if I was a Christian, would I respond
honestly and face my death, or evade the truth, knowing that it could
save my life? Like I said, they were flashes, each disappearing
as quickly as it had appeared, each as unanswered when it left my mind
as when it had entered.
Over the weekend I continued to watch the news, praying for peace and
comfort to blanket the people in Mumbai. I watched my email, and
never heard a word about the trip being canceled. My confidence
grew, and I felt that sense of calm surround me once more. Even
on Sunday morning. As soon as I reached the church, people were
coming up to me saying, "Well, I guess you're trip is canceled" with so
much certainty, I almost got defensive in responding. "No, of
course we're still going." I shocked so many with my response
that they began to think I was crazy (if they hadn't known the truth
before). Over the next few weeks, I heard endless comments from
church members about how worried they were for me. Some even
offered to let me borrow their guns! I'm hoping that these were
jokes, because anyone who knows me at all knows my strong reaction
against any kind of violence (I can't even handle fishing--I feel so
guilty stabbing the poor worms with a hook, and then dangling them as
innocent victims for whatever unknowing fish is about to get stabbed as
well).
While I deeply appreciate their care and concern, it doesn't help to
hear how worried they are. I thought of my sermon a few months
ago, about how pointless worry was, unless we used it to inspire good
action. I told them about how letting fear build up in you and
keeping you from living your life just gives the terrorists the
advantage of "winning". I explained that the distance from Mumbai
to Mungeli is about the same distance as Atlanta to New York. I
reminded them that I do not reciprocate violence, and will certainly
not be taking a gun. When none of that worked, I usually
responded by saying thanks for the concern, and please pray for us
while we're gone.
