Many people are wondering why Cyd ever went to Afghanistan in the first place. They cannot understand why a person would do something they consider so dangerous, if not completely reckless. And now, because of her death, they judge it a shame that she ever went.
But I know that Cyd would much rather have spent her life, even if she'd known she were going to die, in a place like Afghanistan than somewhere easy and comfortable, only for the sake of its beauty. At times her life was extremely physically uncomfortable; but in return, she had the complete and indescribable peace of giving her life up for someone besides herself.
Its sad to me how much people can misjudge the strength and depth of a person such as herself. The service she gave to the Afghan people was, in her mind, more beautiful and valuable than any pain-free life that she could have enjoyed here in the States. Cyd experienced the 'better-ness' of giving herself up for others, rather than the emptiness that comes when we do things only for ourselves. She found this truth in the midst of obedience to Christ. There is a sweetness there that cannot be found anywhere else in the world, that none of the people who condemn her going can ever understand. Many of them are trying to find peace in other things, and failing. What a shame, that they will probably never know they might have found it in a place like Kandahar.
I have thought so much on all this, but the one thought that occurs to me every single day is this: Cyd's beautiful heart shines out to me from her death, and makes me want to be a better person. Her death spurs me on to continue learning to die to my selfish self, and give my life away to others, serving them in justice and mercy.
Lofty ideals are only lofty when we don't pull them down to earth and put them into practice. I know that I will be a better person because of her; I already am. May her life and sacrifice also inspire you to understand the better-ness, and the ridiculousness, of giving yourself away.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Aragorn Is My Middle Name
So, some of us went camping in the Wichita mountains this weekend. Some... 47 of us. It was so fun!! Here is a quick synopsis:
-We camped by a lake, across from a mountain and watched the sun and moon set and rise over it. One word: gorgeous.
-We cooked lots of food, most of it on a gigantic six foot grill that looked really impressive on fire, covered in a hundred pieces of chicken that were being simultaneously basted and turned by nine different people.
-We ran across Mount Elk like we were in the Lord of the Rings. "Come Gimli... we're gaining on them!" This was the most exhilarating run I've done.
-We had two awesome services, for Good Friday and Easter. 30 international students heard about their meaning for the first time! Pretty amazing.
-As we hiked, I jumped across two monoliths and didn't quite reach my friend's hand that was stretched out to help me across. As I was falling backward about to drop down into the crevice, he reached further and grabbed my hand. Here's to being alive, and not paralyzed!
-It was so freezing cold and windy the second night that EB got up while it was still dark and huddled in a port-a-potty until morning.
-We had everything from Nepali folk songs and Korean pop to "Ice, Ice, Baby" performed around the campfire.
To sum it up, I'd say a great time was had by all.
-We camped by a lake, across from a mountain and watched the sun and moon set and rise over it. One word: gorgeous.
-We cooked lots of food, most of it on a gigantic six foot grill that looked really impressive on fire, covered in a hundred pieces of chicken that were being simultaneously basted and turned by nine different people.
-We ran across Mount Elk like we were in the Lord of the Rings. "Come Gimli... we're gaining on them!" This was the most exhilarating run I've done.
-We had two awesome services, for Good Friday and Easter. 30 international students heard about their meaning for the first time! Pretty amazing.
-As we hiked, I jumped across two monoliths and didn't quite reach my friend's hand that was stretched out to help me across. As I was falling backward about to drop down into the crevice, he reached further and grabbed my hand. Here's to being alive, and not paralyzed!
-It was so freezing cold and windy the second night that EB got up while it was still dark and huddled in a port-a-potty until morning.
-We had everything from Nepali folk songs and Korean pop to "Ice, Ice, Baby" performed around the campfire.
To sum it up, I'd say a great time was had by all.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Cyd, Part II
One of the first things that came to my mind the day I learned Cyd was no longer alive, was the realization that not only had Cyd been killed... but someone had actually murdered her. She hadn't just been hit by a car, or gone down in a plane; another human being had chosen, at some moment in time, to commit a cold-blooded act of violence. Against her.
I have tried to imagine that Cyd died painlessly. I hope in my heart that she did. But I have imagined it, for sure. Partly because, recently in our pathophysiology class, we saw pictures of people who had received gunshot wounds to the head, and other trauma. Its very disturbing to see the face of someone who has been shot. Partly, because they are lifeless, helpless. But also because killing, as opposed to other ways of dying, forces the killed to bear the ultimate expression of hatred.
I thought about these people who took my friend's life. I tried to imagine who they were; what they looked like, what they thought of, the moment they were murdering a helpless and defenseless woman. And there was one thought that came to the surface:
I want to quit school. I want to go to Afghanistan. I want to track these people down... I want to find them, and I want to tell them something, in case she didn't get the chance:
Cyd loved them. They were the reason she went to Afghanistan- hopeless people, just like them. That her entire purpose in going there was to bring love, and light, and goodness to a dark place. That they could kill Cyd, but they could never kill what she stood for. That their hate and murder was forgiven, and that love can never be put to death.
That they can change. I want to believe that her death made a difference to them, just as her life made a difference to us. That there is a way to end this endless hatred living in their hearts. As Khaled Hosseini said in The Kite Runner, that "there is a way to be good again."
Ridiculous hope, you might say. But then, its ridiculous to move there in the first place.
I have tried to imagine that Cyd died painlessly. I hope in my heart that she did. But I have imagined it, for sure. Partly because, recently in our pathophysiology class, we saw pictures of people who had received gunshot wounds to the head, and other trauma. Its very disturbing to see the face of someone who has been shot. Partly, because they are lifeless, helpless. But also because killing, as opposed to other ways of dying, forces the killed to bear the ultimate expression of hatred.
I thought about these people who took my friend's life. I tried to imagine who they were; what they looked like, what they thought of, the moment they were murdering a helpless and defenseless woman. And there was one thought that came to the surface:
I want to quit school. I want to go to Afghanistan. I want to track these people down... I want to find them, and I want to tell them something, in case she didn't get the chance:
Cyd loved them. They were the reason she went to Afghanistan- hopeless people, just like them. That her entire purpose in going there was to bring love, and light, and goodness to a dark place. That they could kill Cyd, but they could never kill what she stood for. That their hate and murder was forgiven, and that love can never be put to death.
That they can change. I want to believe that her death made a difference to them, just as her life made a difference to us. That there is a way to end this endless hatred living in their hearts. As Khaled Hosseini said in The Kite Runner, that "there is a way to be good again."
Ridiculous hope, you might say. But then, its ridiculous to move there in the first place.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Cyd
Two weeks ago, at my housechurch, we prayed that we would get some word on Cyd and her driver. Then last Tuesday, at 11:13 a.m., Ross called to let me know that sometime over the weekend, Cyd and Hadi had both been killed.
As he was saying the sentence, oh, how I wanted the last word to be different. But he was saying it too slowly and seriously for the word to have been, "freed," or "rescued,"- I knew it from the beginning. And entered a state of shock that lasted just about this whole last week. Its been a weird decision, because normally I wouldn't talk about this stuff with very many people, but I decided that I am going to post a lot about her death on here. Because I have been learning so much and its so precious to me, that I want to share who she was and what all of this has meant to me. So this will just be the first of many thoughts on this.
It was such a long day. Questions kept filling my mind.. how did Cyd die? When did she die? How do they- whoever they are- know that she is dead? Where is her body? What was the last thing she ate, drank, saw, thought, prayed?
Romans was a complete comfort to me. Particularly, chapter 6- people only die once, and then death no longer has power over them. Cyd was suffering in the month before she passed away, and evil people had control of her. But they do not any longer. I wish so much though, that I could have spoken to, or communicated with her just one last time.
Just before Ross called, I'd been praying for her. My friend EB and I are memorizing the book of Colossians. And a particularly apt verse for her had been, "May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father."
And I remembered how many times in Afghanistan, when things were just way too hard, God would bring something really good into the day, and bless you with it, and it would alleviate a lot of the pain. So, instead of my normal prayer- that she would be freed, or have a chance to escape and the courage to take it, I prayed that God would give Cyd a really good gift. Something really, really really good. And I was thinking along the lines of getting to play with a little child or getting something delicious to eat...
But instead he gave her a crown of life.
As he was saying the sentence, oh, how I wanted the last word to be different. But he was saying it too slowly and seriously for the word to have been, "freed," or "rescued,"- I knew it from the beginning. And entered a state of shock that lasted just about this whole last week. Its been a weird decision, because normally I wouldn't talk about this stuff with very many people, but I decided that I am going to post a lot about her death on here. Because I have been learning so much and its so precious to me, that I want to share who she was and what all of this has meant to me. So this will just be the first of many thoughts on this.
It was such a long day. Questions kept filling my mind.. how did Cyd die? When did she die? How do they- whoever they are- know that she is dead? Where is her body? What was the last thing she ate, drank, saw, thought, prayed?
Romans was a complete comfort to me. Particularly, chapter 6- people only die once, and then death no longer has power over them. Cyd was suffering in the month before she passed away, and evil people had control of her. But they do not any longer. I wish so much though, that I could have spoken to, or communicated with her just one last time.
Just before Ross called, I'd been praying for her. My friend EB and I are memorizing the book of Colossians. And a particularly apt verse for her had been, "May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father."
And I remembered how many times in Afghanistan, when things were just way too hard, God would bring something really good into the day, and bless you with it, and it would alleviate a lot of the pain. So, instead of my normal prayer- that she would be freed, or have a chance to escape and the courage to take it, I prayed that God would give Cyd a really good gift. Something really, really really good. And I was thinking along the lines of getting to play with a little child or getting something delicious to eat...
But instead he gave her a crown of life.
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