The Washington Post told the story, "Kidnapped British aid worker in Afghanistan killed in NATO rescue attempt". She was 36 years old. Speaking of her profound love and commitment to her cause, the story continued . . .
"We are saddened beyond words by the death of a wonderful woman whose sole purpose in Afghanistan was to do good - to help the Afghan people achieve a measure of prosperity and stability in their everyday lives as they set about rebuilding their country," James Boomgard, the president and chief executive of DAI, said in a statement. "Linda loved Afghanistan and cared deeply for its people, and she was deeply committed to her development mission. She was an inspiration to many of us here at DAI and she will be deeply missed."
As forces were amassed, as the intensive rescue operation was planned, as skilled teams set forth to risk their lives, they knew there was a possibility that people would be hurt, even dying, to leverage the retrieval of this one woman.
Sadly, after much investigation, one of the lives lost in the rescue attempt was the very life which was sought to save. Linda's.
It was the last thing people wanted to see happen. It broke hearts, devastated family members and horrified those who walked through the rubble.
It was a failure.
Or was it? When we endeavor to rescue, when we set our path to save, sometimes people do get hurt even when the motives are noble.
Friendly fire. A risk in all great endeavors. The last thing anyone wants to see, and yet, a risk we take in our deepest relationships, pursuit of our dreams, most compassionate attempts to reach out, save, protect . . . and yet, without taking that risk all would be lost anyway.
Take the risk. Rescue what is lost. Free what is captive. Life is about redemption.
Risk the possibility of being wrong, the possibility of making huge mistakes, even loss, for the possibility of saving something precious.
Risks of the greatest kind are the seed to the most powerful miracles. Hurt is always a possibility in any great and impossible endeavor. And the attempt is the only way you know for sure what is truly possible . . .
