Failure

Yesterday I failed.

I took care of one of the kids of some friends of mine, and being the spoiler of children that I am I bought him frozen yogurt after a day spent adventuring.  Walking back to my car, I heard some terrible things.  Parked a couple spaces away a man used horrible language to abuse a young woman in his car.  I mean terrible profanity.  The sort of stuff none of us should use, and yet so many of us use regularly.

My whole point in practicing the Christian martial way is to protect others.  I did not protect that young woman.  Hearing those terrible things, I thought only of getting the child who was my charge away from there, I didn't stop to address the horrible treatment of a human person.  Driving away I felt shame such as I have rarely known.  And regret.  And burning rage.

I seriously considered fighting this person.  Or at least yelling at him.  Or something.  But every thing I thought of only meant it might be harder to protect the child.  If I spoke up, not only would it draw the boy's attention to what was being said, but it would likely have brought more abuse directed towards us.  If I physically acted, what message would I be sending a young man whom I have tried to drill lessons into regarding the appropriate times for violence?  He didn't know what was going on.  I didn't want him to know what was going on.

Worse yet, had I been injured in some way, this child would've been by himself, without even a phone, as mine had broken a couple hours earlier.  And if I'd been arrested for fighting?  I don't even know what would've happened to him.  Or his parents for entrusting him to me.  After I dropped him back off with his mother, I spoke to a moral theologian at my parish about the situation.  I didn't know what else I could have done.  I still don't.  He said because there was no physical violence being directed at the young woman in the car that my primary responsibility was to do exactly what I did, which was get the child away from the situation.  Everyone else I have told about this has said exactly the same thing.

I am not soothed by this.  I am still ashamed.  I should've been able to do more.  That woman was someone's daughter, someone's sister.  In fact, I know exactly whose.  She was a daughter of God.  I failed to protect her.  That man was a son of God, I failed to teach him a better way.  There were three people who needed help.  I only helped one of them.

I realize it isn't enough to talk about moral problems or dilemmas.  I just lived the sort of situation that sometimes we only theorize about.  I pray to God I chose well.  I pray both for the man and the woman.  But what good is prayer when one whose hands should be Christ's, whose feet should be Christ's, whose voice should be Christ's drives away silent?  He has no hands or feet on Earth but ours.  He had none there but mine.

So I pray for the Grace and knowledge to do better next time.  And I pray He will forgive me for not doing more.  I pray He will teach me His way, the way to help every soul in need.