Not my war to begin with (short story)
This story is purely fictinal and aren't related to any real human or whatever.
Japanese version ↓
It was like a voice coming from the bottom of hell. It started small with "aaaaa" and then it became "AAHHHHH" to a scream. I peeked into the sleeping face, faintly lit by a light, asking if he's okay. A look of agony, yet still in his dream.
I don't know what he saw in Hell. But the screaming every night shows it. He came back from the battlefield. Did he kill, or was he killed?
The tranquility of the night comes back, but it is never the same. That screaming tore the atmosphere apart. Oh, God, please come back again. And fill this bed room with you.
Far from the madding battlefield, we were supposed to build a new life in this seaside town. The war changes everything it touches.
I think of Elena, who used to be my friend, and went to the same church. I am half Japanese, and Elena is half Russian. We both liked to read.
I don't even know what righteousness is anymore. Elena watched Russian TV programs. Little by little, we became unable to understand each other.
It was my grandmother, who lives in the Shonan area in Japan, who offered a refuge to Olek and I. A garden with citrus trees, a white painted two story house. The neighbor's mansion has a groove of pine trees. So near the beach it is just a cycle away.
Olek lost a hand. But I fear something far worse. I fear him losing his soul. I even wish that I went to the battlefield instead of him. Me? I spent my life just reading books and nothing else, I am no use in the battlefield, yet still.
I am weak, but God is strong. But Olek cannot say such. Olek is blaming himself. I am weak, I am weak, oh how weak am I!
Of course, I tried my best with words. I love Olek. I cannot leave alone a man perishing in front of me. Please, look. Jesus is here. You can be free. You just got to surrender yourself.
Oh, but how powerless the word is. I understood it at last. Olek observed me with an empty look. You live out and prove to me, if the Jesus you talk is real or not.
I was not drafted to the army because I am a woman. And I was in a relatively safe place during the war, so I haven't seen much danger. But I know the battlefield. If it isn't, then what is?
If Olek lost his left hand, what did I lose? I don't know. But I am still standing. At first, my equipment wasn't enough, so was my training. But God trained me step by step to make me stronger. To pray, to love, to forgive and to eat the Word everyday.
Nowadays, Olek doesn't look down on me anymore. He just looks at me strangely as if I am a wife from another planet. Even so, I am still fighting. Peace negotiation is contemptible. I don't need Turkey or Batican mediating for us. Because I am destined to win. The victory Jesus won on the cross, is mine. This is not my battle. This was not my war to begin with. It's Jesus's war, and Jesus won.
"How long does this war goes on?"
Every morning, Olek mumbles as he listens to the news. Using a fork awkwardly, for he was left handed. I don't know, but I know all is well, I answer. Yet my heart is always heavy when I see his invisible left hand. And to think of the wedding ring that was blown up with hand and fingers.
"You go on fighting till Jesus comes."
Last Sunday at church, sister Washio told me so. A doctor's wife, a mother figure to me who has been so kind to us since we came. She gently hugged me from the back. Why did she know, why did she know what I was thinking?
"It's a promise, until Jesus comes."
I know. That I have only two choices. Go to His side after death or wait until Jesus comes. I often wish God would take me away, for it is so painful to be alive. But what will happen to my Olek? If I die, Olek would rot away alone in this foreign nation.
I know. I know Olek's life will be changed by Jesus. Like his left hand, it is invisible, but I am believing. The things I believe exist in faith. So I gotta keep on fighting. Glory to my home country. And the biggest glory to Jesus whom I love so dearly.
Other translated works↓
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