I was reading Hetty Hillesum’s diary today. On her last entry, before she was deported in 43, to a Nazi camp, she says “I would like to be a balsam to cure all wounds”. Indeed she is. The peace in her, in those unnamable times of horror. The way she could still look at the sky, and found joy in each small thing about her daily life. The struggle to keep going, to keep being fragile and brave, to keep smilling, to keep helping the others. The way she combatted her innermost anxieties, and the way she managed to understand and forgive. How she faced death and fear with hope and love. It brings me to a state of completeness. She gives me her hand. She tells me of the secrets of the universe and the vast sky. She tells me of the flowers blossoming still in these dark times. Of how we can deal with anguish. Of how litterature, books and a diary can cure the deepest wounds. Of how love is sacred. And forgiveness, And being with God. She says: ‘If at anymoment God cannot help me anymore, I will then help Him’.
Only a soul like hers could cure us from these wounds, from the hatred being born in these times. She is the balsam, to cure all wounds.
