Fight or Flight

There is this theory that in moments of crisis, you either take flight or fight. This is an embarrassing confession, but I think I’m more of a flight person. I’m fascinated by heroic characters in movies that put themselves in dangerous situations over and over again, but usually I say to John that I just wouldn’t do that – I would likely just hide. I don’t think I’m really the hero type.

Life is tough in Zimbabwe. Almost everyone is struggling. Every day I have conversations with people who are afraid of not being able to buy food and starving. And it’s tiring. A huge part of me wants to escape from this harsh reality – to fly back to Toronto and wander around the Eaton Centre, or to eat at a restaurant where I will be surrounded by people who can afford to eat out. I guess it’s because I grew up in the wealthy west – where we know about the realities of the world, but we can either change the channel, or write out a cheque from our “extras” to assuage our guilty consciences. Here, it’s “reality t.v.” all day, every day. I read a true story recently of a boy who was so hungry that he was eating grass. His stomach had atrophied so that he couldn’t digest anything, so green was pouring out of cuts on his legs and face. He was starving to death. I’m afraid of seeing that – with my own eyes... and knowing that I have access to US dollars. Of course, we help people – as many as we can. But it feels like it’s never enough.

It’s a horrible thing when a feeling of helplessness leads you to doing nothing, or just desiring to ignore and flee. I’m committed to encouraging the disheartened rather than becoming disheartened myself. But sometimes the engulfing waters threaten me and the deep seems to surround me (Jonah 2:5).

I’m embarrassed to write all of this. When I was at home and watched World Vision commercials, my feeling was always that I wanted to be here, sharing in people’s pain; feeling some of it; forcing myself not to ignore. I just always felt that sending money wasn’t enough – I wanted to be there. To be here. Now I’m here. And of course I’ll stay and fight it out, and of course we’ll keep doing what we can. But I have this shameful desire in me to flee – to go back to “normal” life. But it’s not really normal. This is reality – for many, many people in the world. And the most real part of me wants to stay, and is grateful to God that I can share life with people here. Sometimes it’s just hard…