There is beauty in devastation, in tragedy, in sadness, in loss. I think we forget that in order to rebuild, something first has to fall, first has to be destroyed and, as much as I don't like to watch people running for their lives, dying, suffering, I am not convinced that it won't one day be me, be us, be everyone who has been watching CNN for the past 24 hours and who has begun to lose hope or faith in what is happening in the world, to the world...
I am looking at my 4 year old who is laying naked on my bed, holding his blanket, watching the Power Rangers and it is hard in this moment to think that there is probably a mother, near Japan, in Japan who is weeping for a lost relative, maybe even a child, who was taken in yesterday's devastating earthquake. And in this moment, the fleeting nature of time and of perspective has taken hold of my heart, gripping, squeezing; making it difficult to think of anything else. And in that fear, in that moment of unity between she and I, there is beauty and hope and faith. Because really, without that, what is there? The world waits when tragedies occur, but we wait for the opportunity to help, to speak up, to pray, to make ourselves part of the larger picture that we call life. And if we don't do this, if we don't weave ourselves into the pattern, then we feel lost and isolated and not connected to other people. As I listen and watch and as I read the paper today, every single one of those people was someone I knew; it could have been off the coast of California... it still very well could be one day. My home, my city, my world crashing down and who will be there to respond, to pray, to hope? I like to think that there will be a mother somewhere thinking exactly what I am right now; have strength, have faith; after the hurt comes the healing.
Maybe it's a naive way of looking at what will be considered one of the greatest natural disasters in the history of the world thus far, but, like anything that is complicated to understand or like a concept that is too abstract to grasp, one needs to find something tangible, something that helps you relate to the immensity of a situation. Otherwise it becomes unreal, surreal and too much like a television "show" where disaster has struck but that which is then cleaned up in the remainder of the hourlong show. Survival doesn't mean just taking your next breath. It means knowing that the next breath is another chance to move forward, to begin again, to try harder, to hope. Naive? Idealistic? Ridiculous? Maybe, but the next months will tell how our role and the role of other nations in the world will help the rebuilding of lives for the families that have been devastated. I just wonder, will it be enough? And do we even think about Haiti anymore or New Orleans or Thailand?
Ty is asleep next to me right now, his little hand on my arm, silent, dreaming, peaceful and, that's all there is, that's all there needs to be really. People, children, families, safe, alive, free. Sometimes it doesn't seem like that much to ask and other times it seems like such a ridiculous idea. But it's in how we respond to what is thrown at us, how we help, how we rebuild that shows our character or lack thereof. It is how all of those who are suffering tonight will attempt to get through the tragedy. We are compelled to help because we know that each person out there is us, is this 4 year old asleep next to me, is our friend or our neighbor. And, they don't need to ask, no one should ever have to ask; they should know that someone will be there.
I send my love, my faith, my hope to all those who suffer in the world despite their predicament, their illness, their tragedy and I do so in the hope that when I need it from them, when I need it the most, that it will indeed be there for me...
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