We heard about the terrorist attacks on Friday night after a dinner with the Bulgarian couple who lives below us. We spent the rest of the evening watching the news on both our German tv and our English computers as the death count rose.
Why does this happen? What is wrong with our world? How can humans have so much hate in their hearts? And when, for Heaven's sake, when can the healing begin? I realize there will never be clear answers to these questions, but that doesn't prevent me from asking them. Two days before the attack I learned that the Pope has declared 2016 a Holy Year: A Year of Mercy. The polarity of daily events is so extreme, it is almost unfathomable.
Saturday after the attack was a somber day for the people of Frankfurt. The reality of how small the world has become was apparent as we sat in a Turkish Döner restaurant in the middle of Frankfurt, Germany watching the news about Paris, France broadcasted in Turkish.
Being so close, relatively, to France, people from the US have asked me if I am scared. I'm not scared. At least not right now. I'm just sad. I seems to me that the conflict in the Middle East is far more complicated than it can sometimes be made to seem. There is a long history of wrong, after wrong, after wrong coming from all directions causing blurs of gray in a time when people want so badly to see everything in black and white. I feel fortunate to have a very intelligent and well informed historian who doesn't mind explaining the complicated Middle Eastern past to me whenever I have questions. Unsure of how to make sense of it, all I can do is reach out to people who are smarter and wiser than me.
Old, wrong ideas do not give up without a fight. They grow more hysterical as they sense their own imminent death.
This thought from one of my wise friends provides me with a fragile mix of both fear and comfort. Peace could be just around the corner; if only it wasn't such a dark and dangerous corner. I fear for the thousands of refugees who have given everything they have to escape the horror of their homeland. Will their fellow humans embrace them and shelter them? Or will the attacks in Paris evoke too much fear causing more walls to be erected, blocking the people who are most in need? And can I blame people for being afraid?
In this time of radical action and reaction, I will try to follow the advice of a teacher and friend who told me to find the stillpoint of awareness in the midst of the surrounding chaos; to hold it all in my heart without quick reaction. To find peace and love within myself and allow it to flow outward to the world around me and hope that it will travel far enough.
On Monday, Fritz and I flew from Frankfurt to Warsaw by way of Paris. We booked the trip to Warsaw, Poland several weeks ago and took the cheaper option by flying out of the larger French hub. It's hard to believe that our lives have taken us straight to the heart of the current suffering.
A view of France from the sky
We got off the plane and began to make our way through the airport. The hallways were kind of winding but well marked. We were looking for our terminal while simultaneously searching for a bathroom. An elderly French woman was very quick to point us in the right direction identifying the men's room and the direction of the terminal. The signs were pretty clear and we probably would have been fine without her help, but she was still very eager to explain the airport to us. Fritz went into the restroom while I waited outside with our bags. It seemed that the French woman was also waiting for someone in the bathroom.
I dropped my gaze as I waited, but the French woman, in her French accent, had more to say to me.
"We all have to look after one another. It is better to communicate and talk with each other. It doesn't help to think 'I am alone in this world.' Not anymore."
"You're right," was all I could manage to say back to her as we held each other with our eyes for a few long seconds. The depth of sorrow in her eyes was crippling. Our connection was broken when her husband came out of the bathroom and the French couple walked out of sight. Those were the first words I heard in Paris, France. I cried when I recounted her words to Fritz.
French newspapers available for free in the airport
Beautifully written, Amanda.
ReplyDeleteWhen I got your text at lunch that you kids were in Paris I have to admit I was a little panicked! All I wanted was to receive the next text saying you were safe in Warsaw! The French woman's comment really spoke for how we should always be! It gives me faith and is reassuring to know that there is still so much kindness in the world. I, like you Amanda, tend to only see the positives and am basically a very trusting soul.
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