It was the end of my time on the Africa Mercy. I went to the ward one last time to say goodbye to a couple of our Women’s Health ladies that were still patients in the hospital. We had shared laughter and tears and dances for several months… As a nurse, patients with complicated conditions that keep them close can be a mixed blessing. Of course you want to see your patients get well and leave the hospital, but it’s just so nice to keep seeing them when they have become more like family.

But now we would all be leaving soon. I went to my friend, Rebecca, who was also a translator for us in the hospital as one of our Day Crew. I trusted her to share my heart with my special patient, Ragi, as I tried to say goodbye.

As Rebecca and I sat down on the bed next to her, Ragi took one look at my face and started to cry. She already knew what was coming. I quickly started to say my peace before I turned into a puddle of tears myself. Rebecca gently relayed my heart to my dear Ragi and then relayed Ragi’s reply back to me.

At first Ragui’s parting words reflected mine and made my heart soar, but then Rebecca translated, “Ragi asks that you forgive her.”

My heart stopped.

I looked from Ragi, to Rebecca, back to Ragi, and then to Rebecca in shock and borderline horror. Our ladies faced so much shame for injuries and circumstances that were far out of their control. I was mortified that I made Ragi feel that she had anything to apologize for.

“Rebecca, why is she apologizing? What did I do to make her think she owes me an apology?” I asked wide eyed, but trying to measure my reaction on the bustling ward.

“Oh Erin,” Rebecca’s voice comforted, “In Africa, when we part ways… like if someone is moving far away or even when someone is dying… We ask for forgiveness because we know there are things – even little things – we might say or do that offends or hurts our loved one. We may not realize or know what we did wrong before we part. So we ask for forgiveness. We are saying, ‘Forgive me for what I do not know’.”

Suddenly all of my shortcomings as a nurse came flooding back to me… all the times I was too slow or too rushed or forgot to follow up on.

I looked over at Ragi and held her hand a little tighter. “Ragi, I can’t think of anything to forgive. But oh, please, forgive me. I know things get lost in translation and there are things I miss. I know I’m far from a perfect nurse and there are lots of things I could do better,” I looked up at Rebecca, “Please tell her. Tell her that, Rebecca. I need forgiveness too.”

Ragi listened to Rebecca share my outburst and just smiled at me patting my hand in a very Mom-like fashion.

We hugged and I kissed her cheek and then I walked off the ward for the last time.

In these harsh days and months, I’ve thought about Ragui’s parting lesson often. It’s challenged me and corrected the posture of my heart many times…

Forgive me. Forgive me for what I do not know.

Not that it excuses willful ignorance or dismissal of injustice…

Not that it makes everything right…

But I think I would do better moving through the world from a place of constantly giving and receiving this kind of grace.

Oh, I miss Ragi. I look forward to seeing her again in heaven and getting to know her even more. We’ll be speaking the same language on that glorious day and I think she has a lot more to teach me.