Note: On Tuesdays and some Sundays, you can find me at Your Daily Tripod, owned by my friend TonyD. A longer version of the post below appears there.
It was an unusual conversation to have at 5:30 in the morning, which made it all the more of a gift.
I’d been up for an hour, preparing for a weekend getaway, when I received a group email from a friend and business associate. What was she doing up that early? She’d left me a phone message the evening before, so I shot her a note to see
if we could chat. And so we did.
One of the topics was our recent diocesan women’s conference at which Imaculee Ilibagiza was the speaker. You likely know her story, even if you don’t remember her name: she’s written and spoken extensively about the Rwandan genocide, when she spent three months in a tiny bathroom with seven other women… only to find out when she emerged that all nearly her entire immediate family had been killed. Imaculee eventually found the faith to forgive her family’s murderers.
“Someone told me, ‘I couldn’t do what she did,’” my friend said. “And I told her maybe you’re not called to. Maybe if you’re 90 percent there, that’s enough for right now. Or maybe if you’re 10 percent there, that’s enough for right now.”
It got me to thinking. Could I spend three months in a tiny bathroom with seven other people? I hope I never have to find out. Could I forgive people who destroyed people I love? I hope so. Which is the greater death of self? Maybe that depends on who you are.
It’s been said that few of us are called to martyrdom in the traditional sense. But aren’t we all called to it every day, as we struggle to set aside our reservations about people and situations… and follow with our whole hearts? For in Him, we will always find mercy, regardless of what the world dishes out. Imaculee knows that. She lives it, and so do countless others we know—including those with whom we have deep conversations at 5:30 in the morning—though perhaps not in as public ways.
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