Tuesday marked two years since the attack on our family in our home in Kibuye. I’ve reflected on this event in the past. One month out, seven months out, and one year ago.
Even for me to go back and read how I was processing everything that happened at those intervals of time seems a bit surreal.
Two years out it’s hard not to get frustrated, hard to not be angry. The fact that I still have to suffer hyper-vigilance startle response dozens of times a day. The fact that I’ll never sing again. The fact that I am still in trauma counseling every week. The nightmares, the impact on our family. All for what? They got nothing. They sought to steal money donated to build a desperately needed hospital in their country. And here were are 24 months later – me and my family still paying the price.
That’s not a struggle that can be addressed with a simple Sunday school answer.
Here’s what I have learned:
there are things that I won’t understand this side of eternity.
That’s hard to accept. But honestly, for me at least, that’s easier than trying to accept that I can, should, or will make sense of it all.
I still cling to two beliefs: God is powerful. God is Good.
If those two are both true – then there must be something about this that I don’t understand. And I have to be OK with that.
There are of course ways I can see some kind of good come out of this – or it being worked out for good eventually. But to be honest – it always feels like quite a stretch.
So I guess I do go back to my Sunday school response: God is good. God is powerful.
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