To Be Brave
Tonight I read the following words in To the Land of Long Lost Friends by Alexander McCall Smith and it pierced my soul.
In this fiction novel the main character, Mma Ramotswe, is visiting her friend who is the Matron of a large orphanage in Botswana. During her visit she meets a toddler and hears the tragic story of her mother's death. Mma Tsepole is the housemother caring for the child.
Mma Tsepole turned away. She could not bear it; she could not bear it. And yet she had to, because this was her job and you could not allow your emotions to get the better of you. Others would have to do the weeping, because a housemother in tears was no help to other children. A housemother had to be brave.
These words took my breath away. I've wondered if I were heartless, if I had become hardened to the despair I was faced with every single day in Haiti. I wondered how it was possible to feel so emotionless, so often.
I thought when I left the tears would come. I thought all the tears I pushed down over a decade would come rushing out; they didn't. Three years out and I'm still waiting for the tears to come.
But maybe I had a job to do and knew if I let my emotions lead me I would never get through my day.
Maybe the tears have already been shed, when others did the weeping.
Maybe, just like the housemother, an orphanage director also had to be brave.
Maybe I was brave.
Maybe I still am.
In this fiction novel the main character, Mma Ramotswe, is visiting her friend who is the Matron of a large orphanage in Botswana. During her visit she meets a toddler and hears the tragic story of her mother's death. Mma Tsepole is the housemother caring for the child.
Mma Tsepole turned away. She could not bear it; she could not bear it. And yet she had to, because this was her job and you could not allow your emotions to get the better of you. Others would have to do the weeping, because a housemother in tears was no help to other children. A housemother had to be brave.
These words took my breath away. I've wondered if I were heartless, if I had become hardened to the despair I was faced with every single day in Haiti. I wondered how it was possible to feel so emotionless, so often.
I thought when I left the tears would come. I thought all the tears I pushed down over a decade would come rushing out; they didn't. Three years out and I'm still waiting for the tears to come.
But maybe I had a job to do and knew if I let my emotions lead me I would never get through my day.
Maybe the tears have already been shed, when others did the weeping.
Maybe, just like the housemother, an orphanage director also had to be brave.
Maybe I was brave.
Maybe I still am.
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