Call it what you may

It’s a wonder I haven’t abandoned all my ideals, they seem so absurd and impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart

Anne Frank, Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl, July 15, 1944 German Jewish diarist (1929 - 1945)

My mom got herself a house help like 5 months ago. A nice, Bible-wielding, Christ-speaking, lovable lady. I was so fond of her, she was like the sister i never had. then she upped and left one day two weeks ago. That's not the strange part, no. Girls do that all the time. The strange part is how she carries away a whole lot of money, leaving at 3 in the afternoon with everyone present in the house. Thirty thousand, not even belonging to us. Who carries away that much money and hopes to get away with it?

Strangely enough though, I still want to believe in her.  I still want to believe she is innocent, and that the whole thing was not a facade. Cause then if it was all a lie, all those moments we shared were a lie as well. But like Anne Frank, deep down I cannot accept that as having been all false. There's something great I read:

No man can, for any considerable period, wear one face to himself and another to the multitudes without getting bewildered as to which may be true.

Was she just sitting there, speaking Christianese and making me laugh while waiting for the right moment to strike? See, that's the thing, I do not believe that. I know, I know, I believe in people too much. But she cannot have been that diabolical. Here's what I think, I think a lady earning as much as she was, seeing that much money, money that would have taken her a year or more to honestly earn fell into the trap and gave into temptation. It's wrong, I do not debate the fact, but what I'm not quick to do is to point fingers at her and call on the Lord's fire to consume her. If I was in her shoes what would I have done? Orphaned and learned but keeping house for some lady so I could raise enough money to get married, watching her child live a life that could have been mine. Right now I can say all I want, I can say I would never do that, but the truth is, I really don't know. There's a reason the heart of a man is called desperately wicked, it is. And no one can ever know how much they are capable of. 

This is more painful than it should be, I guess. I feel sort of, I don't know, betrayed. It's just that, everytime I looked at her I saw myself, and I have no idea why...