People say sometimes that I don't care. I don't have a heart. Things of that nature. Though I suppose I cannot fault them. I recently told a friend that he had no need to worry about the state of my heart, because I don't have one.
That of course is not entirely true. For one thing, it isn't physically possible to not have a heart. And for another thing, I definitely have a heart. I feel things very deeply. Sometimes more deeply than other people do. I have found that I often am bothered by things that don't really affect other people.
For example, we were on vacation several years ago. I think we were in the Badlands, but I'm not entirely certain. It made for a good title though, so I went with it. We saw some random horses, though whether they were properly wild, or just wandering away from a ranch, I didn't know. Almost all of the horses we saw were in little herds, grazing calmly on the short grass. One that I saw though, really caught my eye.
He was a bay (one of my favourite horse colours), and he was walking by himself. Perhaps he was a bachelor stallion, maybe a bit too young to have his own harem, or just recently chased from his herd by the herd stallion. But in that case, I wondered why he hadn't attached himself to a bachelor herd. Why was he alone?
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Watching him, he looked more like an older horse. Perhaps a stallion which had been ousted by a younger stud who stole his herd. Maybe he was too old to manage the walking that a herd needed to do to find enough food each day.
Whatever the case with him, he looked like an old sad horse that needed a lot of TLC. And would not get it, because he was out on the open range, a harsh place even for a perfectly healthy horse. And that really upset me. I know that horses die everyday, but I worried about what would happen to him, especially come winter, when it would be even harder to find food, and difficult to survive alone.
I don't know if my family knew I was upset. I know I mentioned the horse, but I don't know that I mentioned my concerns. It was one of those cases where I knew there was nothing that I could do about it. We were on vacation, my parents would never let me try to catch a horse, we had a mini-van, there was no way to find out if he belonged to anyone, etc, etc. But I still couldn't get him out of my mind. I mean, I still think about it sometimes (not obsessively, he just comes to mind on occasion, which is probably obvious since I'm writing about him). For a while, I questioned if there was something I could have done, even knowing that there wasn't. I've had various "throw-away" horses in my life, and sometimes they're the best horses you'll find. They are imperfect according to most standards, but they are loving and you can form a strong attachment to a horse who needs a companion. I don't believe anyone should be thrown away.
While I was in Africa, I had another experience that runs along this vein may hit closer to home with non-horse people.
We were waiting in our van, ready to go back to the hostel after supper. We had the windows open and we were about the leave when a kid came up, reached through the window and snatched the purse from one of the girls, and tried to run off down the road. Fortunately for her, she had the strap of her purse over her shoulder, and he dropped the bag when he felt the resistance. Our drivers ran after him for a ways, shouting things that it was probably good we couldn't understand, then gave up. He hadn't actually stolen anything after all.
There was a general uproar in the van. People were indignant that this would have happened. Apparently they expected Mwanza to be as mellow as Freeport. Attitudes went from anger and shock to amusement. Everyone seemed happy to have a good "Africa story" to tell.
Both of these attitudes bothered me. I guess the anger was a bit understandable. It sucks to have someone try to steal something from you. It's a very violating feeling. But not a single person stopped to wonder what that kid's reasons for stealing were. They didn't mention the fact that there was a very good chance that he had no other idea how he could manage to get money. Yeah, maybe it was just a stunt, but there was a very good chance that he had strong reasons to try to steal that night.
The amusement bothered me even more. There we were, on a mission trip, and everyone was talking about a little kid who was stealing as though it was an act in a play. It didn't seem like anyone looked at him as a real person. Laughing at a thief who was probably about 10-12 just didn't make sense to me.
I didn't know what to say that night either. The kid was gone. He disappeared quickly down the dark road. There was no way to find him and see if he needed help.And no one seemed too interested in talking seriously about the situation. It had gone to amusing, and that’s where it was going to stay.
When we got back to the hostel, I couldn’t get the kid out of my mind. I sat on the balcony, thinking about the situation, and wondering if something could have been done. Though, like I said there was nothing to be done. It affected me to the point of tears, though sadly, my tears really did nothing.
Sometimes I think it would be better if I didn’t care. It would be great if I could be unaffected by circumstances that I cannot control in any way. But then I would be jaded. And that's one of my biggest fears. To actually become what people say I already am. Because if you're jaded, you don't feel pain so much, but you also don't feel joy. Sometimes your greatest joy comes after times of sorrow.
In some cases, all you can do is think about it, process, pray about it, and move on. Because other than that, there's nothing you can do about it, no matter how much you care.
That of course is not entirely true. For one thing, it isn't physically possible to not have a heart. And for another thing, I definitely have a heart. I feel things very deeply. Sometimes more deeply than other people do. I have found that I often am bothered by things that don't really affect other people.
For example, we were on vacation several years ago. I think we were in the Badlands, but I'm not entirely certain. It made for a good title though, so I went with it. We saw some random horses, though whether they were properly wild, or just wandering away from a ranch, I didn't know. Almost all of the horses we saw were in little herds, grazing calmly on the short grass. One that I saw though, really caught my eye.
He was a bay (one of my favourite horse colours), and he was walking by himself. Perhaps he was a bachelor stallion, maybe a bit too young to have his own harem, or just recently chased from his herd by the herd stallion. But in that case, I wondered why he hadn't attached himself to a bachelor herd. Why was he alone?
Whatever the case with him, he looked like an old sad horse that needed a lot of TLC. And would not get it, because he was out on the open range, a harsh place even for a perfectly healthy horse. And that really upset me. I know that horses die everyday, but I worried about what would happen to him, especially come winter, when it would be even harder to find food, and difficult to survive alone.
I don't know if my family knew I was upset. I know I mentioned the horse, but I don't know that I mentioned my concerns. It was one of those cases where I knew there was nothing that I could do about it. We were on vacation, my parents would never let me try to catch a horse, we had a mini-van, there was no way to find out if he belonged to anyone, etc, etc. But I still couldn't get him out of my mind. I mean, I still think about it sometimes (not obsessively, he just comes to mind on occasion, which is probably obvious since I'm writing about him). For a while, I questioned if there was something I could have done, even knowing that there wasn't. I've had various "throw-away" horses in my life, and sometimes they're the best horses you'll find. They are imperfect according to most standards, but they are loving and you can form a strong attachment to a horse who needs a companion. I don't believe anyone should be thrown away.
While I was in Africa, I had another experience that runs along this vein may hit closer to home with non-horse people.
We were waiting in our van, ready to go back to the hostel after supper. We had the windows open and we were about the leave when a kid came up, reached through the window and snatched the purse from one of the girls, and tried to run off down the road. Fortunately for her, she had the strap of her purse over her shoulder, and he dropped the bag when he felt the resistance. Our drivers ran after him for a ways, shouting things that it was probably good we couldn't understand, then gave up. He hadn't actually stolen anything after all.
There was a general uproar in the van. People were indignant that this would have happened. Apparently they expected Mwanza to be as mellow as Freeport. Attitudes went from anger and shock to amusement. Everyone seemed happy to have a good "Africa story" to tell.
Both of these attitudes bothered me. I guess the anger was a bit understandable. It sucks to have someone try to steal something from you. It's a very violating feeling. But not a single person stopped to wonder what that kid's reasons for stealing were. They didn't mention the fact that there was a very good chance that he had no other idea how he could manage to get money. Yeah, maybe it was just a stunt, but there was a very good chance that he had strong reasons to try to steal that night.
The amusement bothered me even more. There we were, on a mission trip, and everyone was talking about a little kid who was stealing as though it was an act in a play. It didn't seem like anyone looked at him as a real person. Laughing at a thief who was probably about 10-12 just didn't make sense to me.
I didn't know what to say that night either. The kid was gone. He disappeared quickly down the dark road. There was no way to find him and see if he needed help.And no one seemed too interested in talking seriously about the situation. It had gone to amusing, and that’s where it was going to stay.
When we got back to the hostel, I couldn’t get the kid out of my mind. I sat on the balcony, thinking about the situation, and wondering if something could have been done. Though, like I said there was nothing to be done. It affected me to the point of tears, though sadly, my tears really did nothing.
Sometimes I think it would be better if I didn’t care. It would be great if I could be unaffected by circumstances that I cannot control in any way. But then I would be jaded. And that's one of my biggest fears. To actually become what people say I already am. Because if you're jaded, you don't feel pain so much, but you also don't feel joy. Sometimes your greatest joy comes after times of sorrow.
In some cases, all you can do is think about it, process, pray about it, and move on. Because other than that, there's nothing you can do about it, no matter how much you care.
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