I had a cup of coffee at 8:00 tonight. The power was out all day today, and I wasn’t going to attempt to make coffee by heating water on the stove and…I don’t even know how I would’ve accomplished that. So I took the opportunity to rid myself of my caffeine headache as soon as the power came back on, which means my sleep schedule just went out the window. These ideas have been stewing in my brain for a few weeks now. Two Sundays ago Janet and I were driving out to Valley of the Angels. It was sunny and clear, allowing for beautiful, unadulterated views of the mountains. There is a vastness to the mountains here that seems different from any other “wilderness” I’ve experienced, probably due to the limited road access and overall lack of development that makes them seem so untouched. By humans, at least. I like to pick a little spot on the side of a mountain, indistinguishable from anything around it, and wonder if a single person has ever been there, in that exact spot, touching that one tree. God’s intricate design radiates from the landscape here, and some days I can only gaze in wonder at the way the sun illuminates a part of the mountainside, how the rain comes across the valley, and how a freshly-fallen Manzanita tastes like roses. I would like to think that I can fully appreciate this intricacy God has bestowed in His creation, but I feel like it is too profound, no matter how devoted I am to observing and understanding it.
The intricacy of this beauty has been so clear to me this summer, but so has the intricacy of evil. The pain of this world is specific, detailed, calculated, and unfair. One of my favorite views this summer was the glimpse out of the newly-cut window of Jessica’s house in Cataluña. The blues, greens, and greys combining into a hazy and unique sprawl of mountains and sky. Yet in the same village, in a different wooden shack with the same view, a 2 year old girl is being sexually abused, contracting the telling urinary tract infection we would diagnose during a mobile clinic two weeks later. It will never make sense, but it is delicate, disgusting, and real. I can never say that these situations, these tiny specks of the world and humanity are untouched by God. I know that’s false. He is omniscient and omnipresent. So how do I come to terms with the sharp, relentless focus of evil? Like the beauty of God’s creation, it is too profound for my full understanding. I want to reconcile it, with God, with the victims. We have at least five crying patients every day in the clinic. Most of the time it’s the toddlers who are angry at me for gagging them in order to diagnose their swollen tonsils. The other cases are women who present with insomnia, headaches, and gastritis. As per our usual consultation, Dr. Olga asks them about stress in their life, explaining how it manifests in their physical condition. Then the tears start as these women explain their husband’s drinking problem, the multiple deaths occurring among their friends, or the poor health of their pregnant teenage daughter. Like I said, relentless. Some days I space out, convincing myself I don’t understand what they’re saying, when really I just can’t understand why they have to be hurting. I don’t ever want to be ignorant of any of this, either. There have been problems in my life that are delicate, intricately positioned as to cause the most pain, and they still can’t seem to compare to the stories I hear or the pain I see in someone’s eyes.
The tiny details of this pain are powerful and can eclipse the intricate beauty of life sometimes. There’s a balance, or war, I’m pretty sure it’s both, that exists between the two. I have poignant memories of both in my life, and each has its own ability to strengthen or further define my relationship with God. I remember the desperation I felt in March and April, when I was consumed with self-doubt and terribly isolated as I poured every ounce of energy into studying for the MCAT. Then I remember being home at the end of May and looking at the peaceful, curled frame of my sleeping 3-year-old cousin just before I woke him up from his nap. These events are separate and non-reciprocating, yet provide a delicate, warring balance in my life. Good and evil are never going to one-up each other or be comparable. Relationships in my experience seem to work similarly – so much strength can be built on little moments and details of devotion, and other little aspects seemingly insignificant can cause intense pain and decay. A pro/con comparison does little to alleviate this conflict and save a relationship; a decision to work towards the good in spite of the war is necessary to do so. We are left with resolve. This war causes weariness, confusion, and doubt, yet every day when I get out of bed, I must resolve to continue towards the ultimate good that God represents without denying the strength of each opponent. And how much I have to learn about this. I can theorize and philosophize much more readily than I can employ this idea in my life.
There is an image of despair so sharp and repulsive that I witnessed a few weeks ago. I have yet to verbalize it to anyone. What is seen in Honduras affects everyone in varying degrees, and what I describe may seem mild to you. I, however, will never be rid of it. I was with Tim in his truck one day after a clinic. We were going to meet the bus at the dump and hand out pizza and water. The situation was out of hand from the start, so we had to alter our original plan. Because of the mob-like atmosphere, I stayed in the truck. While I was sitting there, a garbage truck drove past after its passengers had received the pizza and water. Standing on the back of the truck with one arm looped through the handle was a girl, 7-months pregnant. She was probably 17. Three other guys were also on the back of the garbage truck, one of them trying to grab the two pieces of pizza from the girl. She clutched the plastic bag tightly, laughing and refusing to give it to the man as the garbage truck drove away from the dump. I can’t measure the desperation present in that situation, and no beautiful facet of God’s glory on Earth can reconcile that in my mind. Yet the good will thrive and exist alongside the evil, with some of us in our insignificance working to unveil more of the good found in God’s creation.
