When faced with a situation which I find difficult, sometimes because I have to wait longer than I had originally expected for something to happen, or because I can't get what I want right away, I often cope by telling myself that it could be much worse. It was in this vein that I found it very appropriate that I was reading some writings by the Trappist monk Thomas Merton as I was waiting over an hour for a grand taxi in a small town here in Morocco last week. In these particular writings, Merton describes how certain Christians coped with the crimes being committed by the Nazis during World War II, and how they coped with expectations that they participate in such atrocities. In particular, Merton writes about the Austrian Franz Jagerstatter, who was executed in 1943 for refusing to serve in the Nazi military forces. I believe that because I was reading about Jagerstatter, and about his refusal to serve in the Nazi forces, and about how he instead adhered to what he felt was a pure form of Christianity, even though the Nazis executed him for it, I gained a good deal of perspective, and was filled with a great deal of patience. I realized that what I perceived to be a problem, namely waiting for what seemed to be a long time for a taxi, if it actually was even a problem at all, was relatively minor, mundane and unimportant, compared with the challenging moral questions which many people have faced in other, much more stressful circumstances.
And soon enough, as if to validate my acceptance of the true nature of my situation, a bus stopped on the main road, dropping off some people, some of whom wanted to travel on the more minor road on which I had been waiting. Consequently, with these new arrivals, a taxi filled up and was ready to leave.
I was in a full taxi, riding to my destination, the town of my friend and fellow PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) Ben. He is finishing his service as a PCV this week, so I wanted to visit him in his town before he leaves. We had a good time during my visit. A Peace Corps staff person was visiting his site that day, so as to be more familiar with the town if and when a new PCV starts living there. So we spent part of the day walking around his town, and at times in the process enjoyed great views of the palmerie, the massive grove of palm trees there. We had great meals. One was a tajine with Ben's host family. Another one was at a cafe, and included tomato and onion salad, omelettes, French fries, olives, bread, and olive oil.
When I left his town the next day, I thought about how I was sad that he was about to leave. But then I thought that because he's leaving, that also means that I'm that much further along in my service. Which means that I'm in the thick of being able to help people here in Morocco. And learn things here.
And as I type this, I also know that things could be much worse. Because I have been blessed by God with the freedom which accompanies so many opportunities to give, and in the process, to grow. And thus live the life of love which I aspire to live.
And soon enough, as if to validate my acceptance of the true nature of my situation, a bus stopped on the main road, dropping off some people, some of whom wanted to travel on the more minor road on which I had been waiting. Consequently, with these new arrivals, a taxi filled up and was ready to leave.
I was in a full taxi, riding to my destination, the town of my friend and fellow PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) Ben. He is finishing his service as a PCV this week, so I wanted to visit him in his town before he leaves. We had a good time during my visit. A Peace Corps staff person was visiting his site that day, so as to be more familiar with the town if and when a new PCV starts living there. So we spent part of the day walking around his town, and at times in the process enjoyed great views of the palmerie, the massive grove of palm trees there. We had great meals. One was a tajine with Ben's host family. Another one was at a cafe, and included tomato and onion salad, omelettes, French fries, olives, bread, and olive oil.
When I left his town the next day, I thought about how I was sad that he was about to leave. But then I thought that because he's leaving, that also means that I'm that much further along in my service. Which means that I'm in the thick of being able to help people here in Morocco. And learn things here.
And as I type this, I also know that things could be much worse. Because I have been blessed by God with the freedom which accompanies so many opportunities to give, and in the process, to grow. And thus live the life of love which I aspire to live.
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