It’s Okay Not to Have All the Answers

The following is adapted from Tafolla Toro.

Growing up in a violent neighborhood, I discovered early on that life is complicated. Until I was twelve, I thought there was a clear demarcation between good people and bad people. When my uncle, Tio Mongui, was shot, that belief was blown to pieces.

Tio Mongui was murdered after he helped his neighbor’s son post bail. The son had killed two people in Mexico and the brothers of the people he killed got revenge by killing Tio Mongui. I had always thought that people were either good or bad, but when Tio Mongui was shot, I realized that the world is not black and white. It isn’t a game or movie of cops and robbers. Sometimes bad things happen to good people, and sometimes bad people get away with doing bad things.

That event, and many others like it, set me on a path of seeking answers. I don’t think I’ll ever have all the answers. I’ll probably always be seeking. I’m okay with that.

A Powerful Faith in a Dangerous Town 

In an uncertain world, my mom’s unshakeable faith in God was an incredible example to me when I was growing up. In the summer after I finished sixth grade, the violence in my neighborhood was escalating. My mom didn’t know how to stop the violence, but she never allowed it to break her spirit.

There were three-and-a-half drive-by shootings on average every day that year in San Antonio, Texas. The gang violence had become so commonplace that some days we didn’t notice it. One day I was talking on the phone with my friend Joe, and I heard the popping sound of gunfire. I said, “Hey, Joe, hang on for a second,” while I grabbed the phone cord and moved to sit with my back to a wall, which I believed was the safest place to sit when there’s gunfire. We then carried on with our conversation—while the drive-by was happening.

Despite all this, my mom’s faith never wavered. We would always get tip offs, and my mom seemed unafraid. I felt safe being near her, which is probably why I could nonchalantly continue my phone call with Joe during a drive-by shooting.

Together with some of our neighbors, my mom was part of an informal network of people in the neighborhood who reported to each other about drive-bys. My mom’s friend Elise would call my mom, and say, “Sylvia, I see you cooking, and I just heard from my son that the boys across the street just did a shooting, so there’s going to be a drive-by. You need to stop cooking and get away from the window because they are heading over here now to shoot back at them.”

Elise’s sons were friends with the gang members, but they weren’t in the gang, and so they had all this information. At times, one of the mothers of the gang members would say to Elise, “My son and those guys just shot up a house. This is what’s happening.” For as violent as the gangs were, they would warn their mothers to get to the very back of the house and the network of mothers would warn each other.

When my mom witnessed a drive-by, she called the cops and told them everything she knew, including what the perpetrators looked like and what weapons they had. She could see what was happening from our kitchen window. One time there was a gang meeting right in our neighbors’ front yard. The gang members got tipped off that there was a raid coming and they threw all their guns into the bushes nearby. When the cops came, my mom was on the phone literally during the raid telling the police where the gang members threw the guns.

The scariest moment happened that summer between sixth and seventh grade. It was about six in the evening and the sky was dark, like a storm was brewing. Elise called Mom to tell her a drive-by was going to happen. Not two minutes later, six dudes walked down our street openly carrying shotguns and pistols. It was something out of Tombstone. Mom stood in the window with the curtains drawn and described the men to the cops while they walked by. My sisters and I screamed at Mom, “They’re going to see you! Close the curtain! Get away from the window! They’re going to shoot us!” We were petrified, screaming, almost crying, begging her.

Mom didn’t flinch. She pulled the curtain back with her right hand and held the phone to her ear with her left. We pleaded and warned, “Mom, they’re going to shoot you.”

She turned and said, “No, they’re not. The Lord will protect me.” And then continued to talk to the police. Those six guys emptied their guns into the neighbor’s house and sure enough, not a single bullet came our way. I guess Mom was right, the Lord did protect us.

One of the officers told my mom that our neighborhood was the second hottest spot for drive-bys in San Antonio. I don’t know why but I was a little proud when my mom told me that. Everyone wants to be on a winning team, I guess.

Not Everything Makes Sense

The summer after sixth grade was a rite of passage for me. I had lost Tio Mongui and I was exposed to drive-bys and other violence on a regular basis. Suddenly, life seemed very complicated. If there was a moral order in the world, it had been destroyed.

To my twelve-year-old mind, this was a frightening and confusing concept. Luckily for me, my mom and pops gave me the gift of a spiritual foundation and demonstrated strong faith every single day. Even when the world outside seemed crazy, their faith enabled them to do the right thing.

Not even that faith provides all the answers, though. Faith can’t explain how a bad person chooses to kill someone. They have free will and God can’t stop them. No matter how much I believe in God, I still live in a world where bad things happen. It’s part of the double-edged sword of living in a world with other people. Why did my uncle, who always helped people, get shot, and so many other bad people live? It’s still hard for me to make sense of that story, too.

I may never know the answer to that question. And that’s okay. I’ll continue choosing to do good. Perhaps there are questions in your life that you don’t know the answer to. You keep grappling with them, but they remain mysterious. What are those questions? Can you accept not knowing the answers?

For more advice on living without the answers, you can find Tafolla Toro on Amazon.

Lorenzo Gomez III overcame his mental health obstacles to become a proud participant in the transformation of the city he loves—San Antonio. He’s the chairman of Geekdom, Texas’s largest coworking space, the cofounder of the 80/20 Foundation and Tech Bloc, and has served on the board of several non-profits, including SA2020 and City Education Partners. Lorenzo is honored to have spoken at several universities, including Texas State and UTSA, and cherishes the opportunity to connect with students as a speaker at local schools. He’s the author of The Cilantro Diaries, which quickly became a bestseller (and required reading at Texas A&M) when it was published in 2017.