I didn't comment yesterday about the anniversary of 9/11. I didn't post on facebook where I was when it happened, and I didn't send out a message of remembrance of those lost. Instead, I took the day to think about the last nine years - my ups, my downs, where I've been, where I am, where I'm going. I thought of those who lost their lives in an instance - some in fearful anticipation and some in unknowing oblivion - and I thought about how easily it could have been me - or anyone else. It doesn't take a terrorist attack for someone to be here in one moment and not in the next. However, I think it's days like 9/11 that force us to consider our own mortality and vulnerability. Sometimes it's simply beyond our control...and sometimes we're called to sacrifice...for whatever purpose.
Many lives were lost on 9/11/2001, and many lives have been lost since. I think one of the most telling things of the war we are still fighting is that a growing number of the soldiers can't tell you where they were on the day of the attacks...because they were just children still happily naive about great tragedy. Yet, they are the ones shouldering the legacy of that day. They are the ones who are now called to make the sacrifice. I don't suggest that the cause is not just, but I do think it's time to seek a true resolution so that warriors from yet another generation are not lost to the same terrorists who crashed planes nine years ago. So on 9/11, I remained silent in regards to that day, and I prayed for peace - just like I prayed for today - just like I'll pray for tomorrow. I'm not sure how peace will come...or if it will come...but I remain hopeful and faithful...and I remain thankful to those who have sacrificed - whether by intention or circumstance - to preserve this country. I pray we - politicians and ordinary citizens alike - don't squander the opportunity we've been given. That would be such a waste.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
What the World Needs Now
Yes, I know I haven't written in a while. I've come to terms with the fact that I stink at blogging...or at least at doing it consistently. In many ways, I stink at keeping up with most things electronic. It's why I read other people's Facebook statuses and tweets but rarely update my own. It's why sometimes I answer an e-mail in my head but forget to send an actual response to the person (although, since I recognize this fault, I make every effort to avoid it on really important messages). I think it's also why the virtual pets on a keychain I had as a child always died from lack of virtual food and virtual care. Fortunately, I do much better with real live things. None of my actual animals have suffered from such a fate.
So, yes, it's been a while since I've written. Mostly, it's been because this whole job search thing has completely drained me. Not only has my writing here suffered but my work on my scripts and other projects has also faltered quite a bit. Recently, however, I've been working as a temp at a temp agency. By that I mean I'm actually answering phones, making appointments, filing, etc. at the temp agency. It's bringing in a bit of a paycheck, which is a pretty big morale booster for me at this point, so I'm slowly making my way back creatively.
The reason I'm writing today, though, is that I read a story online that saddened me in a way I can't ignore. The story was on www.foxnews.com, which is site I rarely visit. I'm more of a CNN girl myself, but I venture onto Fox from time to time to see what's being said. And, today, I found buried amongst stories of the devastating tornadoes and the awful economy an article about a homeless man who recently died on a street in Queens. Security cameras caught this man sacrificing himself in order to save a woman from a knife attack. Stabbed and bleeding, the man chased after the assailant until the man collapsed on the sidewalk, dying in a pool of his own blood. In the two hours before paramedics arrived 25 different people walked past this man without taking notice - with the exception of one passerby, who stopped long enough to take a picture of the dying man with a cellphone before continuing on.
I've lived in a big city, so I understand that there's a certain level of indifference where strangers are concerned. It's a necessary defense mechanism because it's difficult to know who you can trust and who you can't. I also understand that there are areas in cities where this sort of death is, sadly, a common occurrence; and people in those areas learn early on to keep their mouths shut. I'm not blind to that reality. However, it still breaks my heart to see human life devalued in such a way. A man is dying in plain view, and it takes almost two hours before someone can be bothered to call for help?! No great heroic act was necessary. Just three numbers dialed into a cell phone might have made a difference. It would have at least shown this human being some respect.
We have a lot of problems in our nation today. We're fighting two wars, the national debt is soaring, healthcare is still unstable, unemployment is at an outrageous level, and Democrats and Republicans have failed to stop making accusations against one another long enough to attempt to find some common, productive ground. But I have to ask, how do we expect to solve those issues when not even one person out of twenty-five can find the decency to acknowledge and aid a dying man? Perhaps you think it's a long jump to make from our national issues to the death of this one man, but I think it's a lot closer that any of us care to admit. We get so caught up in our personal agendas - whether those agendas have to do with ambitions, politics, religion, or whatever else we have on our plates - that we forget to stop and recognize what the person next to us is really going through. We put blinders on so that we can stay focused on the end result, but sometimes it's what is in between here and there that matters most. And, sometimes, we have to be willing to sacrifice something of ourselves for the sake of others. Despite his own agenda of day-to-day survival, that homeless man - whose name by-the-way was Hugo Alfredo Tale-Yax - chose to make a great sacrifice on behalf of a stranger. It's too bad twenty-five different people couldn't even make a simple phone call to do the same for him.
http://www.foxnews.com/us/2010/04/24/homeless-hero-ignored-dying-nyc-street/?test=latestnews
So, yes, it's been a while since I've written. Mostly, it's been because this whole job search thing has completely drained me. Not only has my writing here suffered but my work on my scripts and other projects has also faltered quite a bit. Recently, however, I've been working as a temp at a temp agency. By that I mean I'm actually answering phones, making appointments, filing, etc. at the temp agency. It's bringing in a bit of a paycheck, which is a pretty big morale booster for me at this point, so I'm slowly making my way back creatively.
The reason I'm writing today, though, is that I read a story online that saddened me in a way I can't ignore. The story was on www.foxnews.com, which is site I rarely visit. I'm more of a CNN girl myself, but I venture onto Fox from time to time to see what's being said. And, today, I found buried amongst stories of the devastating tornadoes and the awful economy an article about a homeless man who recently died on a street in Queens. Security cameras caught this man sacrificing himself in order to save a woman from a knife attack. Stabbed and bleeding, the man chased after the assailant until the man collapsed on the sidewalk, dying in a pool of his own blood. In the two hours before paramedics arrived 25 different people walked past this man without taking notice - with the exception of one passerby, who stopped long enough to take a picture of the dying man with a cellphone before continuing on.
I've lived in a big city, so I understand that there's a certain level of indifference where strangers are concerned. It's a necessary defense mechanism because it's difficult to know who you can trust and who you can't. I also understand that there are areas in cities where this sort of death is, sadly, a common occurrence; and people in those areas learn early on to keep their mouths shut. I'm not blind to that reality. However, it still breaks my heart to see human life devalued in such a way. A man is dying in plain view, and it takes almost two hours before someone can be bothered to call for help?! No great heroic act was necessary. Just three numbers dialed into a cell phone might have made a difference. It would have at least shown this human being some respect.
We have a lot of problems in our nation today. We're fighting two wars, the national debt is soaring, healthcare is still unstable, unemployment is at an outrageous level, and Democrats and Republicans have failed to stop making accusations against one another long enough to attempt to find some common, productive ground. But I have to ask, how do we expect to solve those issues when not even one person out of twenty-five can find the decency to acknowledge and aid a dying man? Perhaps you think it's a long jump to make from our national issues to the death of this one man, but I think it's a lot closer that any of us care to admit. We get so caught up in our personal agendas - whether those agendas have to do with ambitions, politics, religion, or whatever else we have on our plates - that we forget to stop and recognize what the person next to us is really going through. We put blinders on so that we can stay focused on the end result, but sometimes it's what is in between here and there that matters most. And, sometimes, we have to be willing to sacrifice something of ourselves for the sake of others. Despite his own agenda of day-to-day survival, that homeless man - whose name by-the-way was Hugo Alfredo Tale-Yax - chose to make a great sacrifice on behalf of a stranger. It's too bad twenty-five different people couldn't even make a simple phone call to do the same for him.
http://www.foxnews.com/us/2010/04/24/homeless-hero-ignored-dying-nyc-street/?test=latestnews
Saturday, January 30, 2010
The State of the Union, John Edwards, and the Death of J.D. Salinger
Well, I finally decided to write a blog post on politics. First off, let me state that I hate politics. And I'm not too fond of politicians either. However, I, like all of you, am at the mercy of the crazy whirlwind that is today's political climate, and judging by the current state of Washington, there's really no telling where we're all going to land.
Now, before you all start sharpening your respective liberal or conservative claws, I want to make it clear that I have purposely avoided getting too specific on the issues that are currently on the table because I simply want to share a few observations I've had over the last couple of weeks. I'm also not interested in getting into a knock-down, drag-out political street fight over who is right about this and who is wrong about that. Anyway, hopefully, how I feel about those sorts of things will be quite obvious by the end of this piece.
That being said, here's my problem. I'm a moderate. My voter registration says Democrat because I do have a tendency to lean slightly left, but my personal beliefs and perspectives more often than not float somewhere in the middle. And I vote accordingly. Democrats and Republicans get a fair shot with me. Because of this, as I watched the State of the Union Address the other night, I was not sure if I was supposed to stand up and clap or sit with my arms firmly across my chest with a scowl set on my face. It was a real dilemma.
No, not really.
In actuality, I watched this annual demonstration of party pride and partisanship stubbornness and just shook my head at its absurdity. It doesn't matter which party the President belongs to, and it really doesn't matter what he says. All that matters is if you're a part of his party, you stand up and applaud after every couple of sentences and be sure to constantly nod your head in agreement in case the cameras land on you; and if you're a part of the "opposing" party, you remain rigidly in your seat and look disapprovingly at the President with an expression that somehow conveys certainty that if your party's candidate had won the election we wouldn't even be having these problems. Oh, and if you're a Supreme Court Justice, you just drift off to sleep because none of what's being said really applies to you anyway.
Year after year, administration after administration, it's the same deal. The only difference is that the side of room clapping and the side of the room scowling flip flops from time to time.
What I really wanted to do during the State of the Union Address was to be able to stand up, interrupt Obama, and tell the members of Congress to grow up and stop acting like kids on a playground. I mean surely they're mature enough to stop their clapping and scowling long enough to actually listen what their Commander in Chief is really saying before they decide whether it deserves applause or reprimand.
Me, I appreciated Obama's effort. He does honestly seem to be trying to get Congress to work together rather than battling along party lines simply for the sake of battling along party lines. Also, as someone who is currently unemployed and not getting a lot of response to resumes and job applications, I am eager to see if he is able to actually jumpstart jobs growth. However, as I watched the saga of clapping and scowling that was the State of the Union Address, I have to wonder if it's all in vain. If the Democratic majority refuses to pay attention to what the Republicans are saying and actually attempt to compromise and the Republicans refuse to meet the Democrats in the middle, then what does that mean for us, the people they represent? It means our voices get lost in the mix, and it comes down to a bunch of hotheaded politicians with personal agendas making the decisions that could potentially make or break our lives. Maybe they'll get it right - it's been known to happen...but what if they get it wrong? I like to think Obama recognizes the gravity of this - and maybe he does - but even he, just like George W. Bush, is pressured to please his own party in hopes of holding his status. Politics is supposed to be a public service position, but really it's a popularity contest.
Exhibit A is John Edwards. Now, I always had this feeling that there was something behind that shiny smile and $500 haircut, but I really, really wanted to believe that he was this people's politician who had overcome great tragedy with the help of his beautiful, stable family and now was seeking to help others do the same. It's sounds a bit too fairy-talish for someone coming out of Washington, and it turns out that it was. When the perfect facade finally crumbled, everybody saw just how ugly it was underneath. I realize that all of this is his personal life, and he may wish to keep it private. However, he, like Bill Clinton and the Governor of South Carolina, dug this hole for himself by starting off with a lie before finally getting around to the truth. I just think Edwards, by the apparent depths he went to in order to keep his affair and the child it produced hidden, dug his hole a little deeper than the others. It's true that personal issues do not necessarily dictate how well a person can do his or her job. However, I think constituents equate cheating on a spouse to cheating on them. If a politician is willing to screw over (seems fitting) his family - the people who should mean the most to him - then to what extent is he willing to screw over the rest of us - and yes, you could easily insert "her/she" wherever I used "him/he."
By coincidence, just last week I finished reading The Catcher in the Rye. If you didn't know, the author, J.D. Salinger, passed away a few days ago. I don't intend to romanticize Salinger because the man was a bit off his rocker, but due to recent events - as well as the masterful style and structure of the novel - I certainly tip my hat to him for the creation of a character like Holden Caulfield. Holden himself is pretty much at the tipping point as far as sanity is concerned, but I think that allows him to say the things everybody else is thinking - or have repressed for so long they've forgotten to acknowledge them. Basically, Holden is searching for meaning in the world. He's struggling to make sense of life and death as well as the physical and the spiritual. He's disgusted by all of the "phonies" - those that allow the superficial to hold too much weight in their lives - and he's drawn towards those that are honestly seeking to reach out to others.
Looking at the past few weeks, I can kind of see things from Holden's perspective. There's a stark contrast between the pure desperation in Haiti and the clapping and scowling in Washington. I have to wonder if the politicians - even those that have been to Haiti or have witnessed similar situations - really stop to think about the frivolity of some of the things they fight over in relation to people who are having to battle for scraps of food for basic survival. I have to wonder if I even really understand. I doubt it. I'm still seeking just like Holden is, only maybe my faith gives me a little more hope and a little more optimism. I see the potential, but we're still a long way from reaching it.
The only way Haiti will recover is through a collaborative effort from a diverse group of people from many different backgrounds. The same is true for the state of this country. It's easy to get more than a little nervous - especially with the amount of national debt - and it's easy to pass the blame - even Obama passed it off to Bush during his speech. However, once you're in a hole, it doesn't matter so much how you got in there, it matters how you get out. Neither sticking our heads in the sand nor passing the blame - whether it be to Bush or Obama or Wall Street or Congress or Democrats or Republicans or whoever - is going to help us now. What counts is where we go from here. Do we keep digging deeper or do we take advantage of opportunities to build? I encourage those who have firmly dug in on one side or the other to start seeking ways to shake hands rather than turn a cold shoulder. There are a bunch of us out there, and we all seem fully confident that our perspective is the best. Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't. I'm sure many of you can pick mine apart with ease. But whether you're far right, far left, or floating somewhere in the crossfire like me, we're all in this together...whether we like it or not.
Now, before you all start sharpening your respective liberal or conservative claws, I want to make it clear that I have purposely avoided getting too specific on the issues that are currently on the table because I simply want to share a few observations I've had over the last couple of weeks. I'm also not interested in getting into a knock-down, drag-out political street fight over who is right about this and who is wrong about that. Anyway, hopefully, how I feel about those sorts of things will be quite obvious by the end of this piece.
That being said, here's my problem. I'm a moderate. My voter registration says Democrat because I do have a tendency to lean slightly left, but my personal beliefs and perspectives more often than not float somewhere in the middle. And I vote accordingly. Democrats and Republicans get a fair shot with me. Because of this, as I watched the State of the Union Address the other night, I was not sure if I was supposed to stand up and clap or sit with my arms firmly across my chest with a scowl set on my face. It was a real dilemma.
No, not really.
In actuality, I watched this annual demonstration of party pride and partisanship stubbornness and just shook my head at its absurdity. It doesn't matter which party the President belongs to, and it really doesn't matter what he says. All that matters is if you're a part of his party, you stand up and applaud after every couple of sentences and be sure to constantly nod your head in agreement in case the cameras land on you; and if you're a part of the "opposing" party, you remain rigidly in your seat and look disapprovingly at the President with an expression that somehow conveys certainty that if your party's candidate had won the election we wouldn't even be having these problems. Oh, and if you're a Supreme Court Justice, you just drift off to sleep because none of what's being said really applies to you anyway.
Year after year, administration after administration, it's the same deal. The only difference is that the side of room clapping and the side of the room scowling flip flops from time to time.
What I really wanted to do during the State of the Union Address was to be able to stand up, interrupt Obama, and tell the members of Congress to grow up and stop acting like kids on a playground. I mean surely they're mature enough to stop their clapping and scowling long enough to actually listen what their Commander in Chief is really saying before they decide whether it deserves applause or reprimand.
Me, I appreciated Obama's effort. He does honestly seem to be trying to get Congress to work together rather than battling along party lines simply for the sake of battling along party lines. Also, as someone who is currently unemployed and not getting a lot of response to resumes and job applications, I am eager to see if he is able to actually jumpstart jobs growth. However, as I watched the saga of clapping and scowling that was the State of the Union Address, I have to wonder if it's all in vain. If the Democratic majority refuses to pay attention to what the Republicans are saying and actually attempt to compromise and the Republicans refuse to meet the Democrats in the middle, then what does that mean for us, the people they represent? It means our voices get lost in the mix, and it comes down to a bunch of hotheaded politicians with personal agendas making the decisions that could potentially make or break our lives. Maybe they'll get it right - it's been known to happen...but what if they get it wrong? I like to think Obama recognizes the gravity of this - and maybe he does - but even he, just like George W. Bush, is pressured to please his own party in hopes of holding his status. Politics is supposed to be a public service position, but really it's a popularity contest.
Exhibit A is John Edwards. Now, I always had this feeling that there was something behind that shiny smile and $500 haircut, but I really, really wanted to believe that he was this people's politician who had overcome great tragedy with the help of his beautiful, stable family and now was seeking to help others do the same. It's sounds a bit too fairy-talish for someone coming out of Washington, and it turns out that it was. When the perfect facade finally crumbled, everybody saw just how ugly it was underneath. I realize that all of this is his personal life, and he may wish to keep it private. However, he, like Bill Clinton and the Governor of South Carolina, dug this hole for himself by starting off with a lie before finally getting around to the truth. I just think Edwards, by the apparent depths he went to in order to keep his affair and the child it produced hidden, dug his hole a little deeper than the others. It's true that personal issues do not necessarily dictate how well a person can do his or her job. However, I think constituents equate cheating on a spouse to cheating on them. If a politician is willing to screw over (seems fitting) his family - the people who should mean the most to him - then to what extent is he willing to screw over the rest of us - and yes, you could easily insert "her/she" wherever I used "him/he."
By coincidence, just last week I finished reading The Catcher in the Rye. If you didn't know, the author, J.D. Salinger, passed away a few days ago. I don't intend to romanticize Salinger because the man was a bit off his rocker, but due to recent events - as well as the masterful style and structure of the novel - I certainly tip my hat to him for the creation of a character like Holden Caulfield. Holden himself is pretty much at the tipping point as far as sanity is concerned, but I think that allows him to say the things everybody else is thinking - or have repressed for so long they've forgotten to acknowledge them. Basically, Holden is searching for meaning in the world. He's struggling to make sense of life and death as well as the physical and the spiritual. He's disgusted by all of the "phonies" - those that allow the superficial to hold too much weight in their lives - and he's drawn towards those that are honestly seeking to reach out to others.
Looking at the past few weeks, I can kind of see things from Holden's perspective. There's a stark contrast between the pure desperation in Haiti and the clapping and scowling in Washington. I have to wonder if the politicians - even those that have been to Haiti or have witnessed similar situations - really stop to think about the frivolity of some of the things they fight over in relation to people who are having to battle for scraps of food for basic survival. I have to wonder if I even really understand. I doubt it. I'm still seeking just like Holden is, only maybe my faith gives me a little more hope and a little more optimism. I see the potential, but we're still a long way from reaching it.
The only way Haiti will recover is through a collaborative effort from a diverse group of people from many different backgrounds. The same is true for the state of this country. It's easy to get more than a little nervous - especially with the amount of national debt - and it's easy to pass the blame - even Obama passed it off to Bush during his speech. However, once you're in a hole, it doesn't matter so much how you got in there, it matters how you get out. Neither sticking our heads in the sand nor passing the blame - whether it be to Bush or Obama or Wall Street or Congress or Democrats or Republicans or whoever - is going to help us now. What counts is where we go from here. Do we keep digging deeper or do we take advantage of opportunities to build? I encourage those who have firmly dug in on one side or the other to start seeking ways to shake hands rather than turn a cold shoulder. There are a bunch of us out there, and we all seem fully confident that our perspective is the best. Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't. I'm sure many of you can pick mine apart with ease. But whether you're far right, far left, or floating somewhere in the crossfire like me, we're all in this together...whether we like it or not.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
11 Days
Eleven days. What is that worth to you? How many hopes, prayers, frustrations, and tears? What can you accomplish in that amount of time? What can you build up? What can you tear down?
For Wismond Exantus, the past eleven days were not measured so much by tasks crossed off of a to-do list. I doubt they were even measured in seconds, minutes, or hours as he likely had nothing on which to keep track of such things. Rather, Wismond's last eleven days were measured in tiny bites of a few precious provisions...in breaths, in and out, in and out...in hopeful taps against the rubble under which he was buried.
Wismond was working as store clerk in a hotel in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, when the earthquake struck last week. In seconds, he went from standing and working in a functioning store to crouching in a life-saving pocket amongst piles of concrete and debris. With only soda, beer, and cookies from the store for nourishment, he crouched and waited for help to come...help that arrived almost too late...but not quite.
I don't know Wismond, and I likely never will. I don't know what kind of person he was before the earthquake, and I don't know how he'll choose to use this life which was spared by an extraordinary series of events. But I like to believe this is a young man full of hope, a young man who possesses a strength of spirit few of us will ever achieve. To survive 11 days alone, helpless, and vulnerable while buried alive and waiting, just waiting, for someone to hear him is a true miracle. I don't believe it happened by chance. I believe good will come out of this, not only in the more intimate picture of this young man but also in the greater landscape of Haiti.
My heart breaks and my tears fall for the Haitians. Their pain is incomprehensible to me. I have never experienced such destruction. It's ironic, I suppose, that my sympathetic heartbreak offered from miles and miles away is comforted by the strength of the Haitian people themselves and their resiliency in the face of such loss. Wismond's story lifts my spirits and gives me hope. It renews my belief in miracles, a belief that has never really faltered but has grown stagnate at times. Tonight as I close my eyes and offer my prayers for Haiti and others around the world experiencing tremendous suffering, I do so not hoping for another miracle tomorrow but expecting one.
For Wismond Exantus, the past eleven days were not measured so much by tasks crossed off of a to-do list. I doubt they were even measured in seconds, minutes, or hours as he likely had nothing on which to keep track of such things. Rather, Wismond's last eleven days were measured in tiny bites of a few precious provisions...in breaths, in and out, in and out...in hopeful taps against the rubble under which he was buried.
Wismond was working as store clerk in a hotel in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, when the earthquake struck last week. In seconds, he went from standing and working in a functioning store to crouching in a life-saving pocket amongst piles of concrete and debris. With only soda, beer, and cookies from the store for nourishment, he crouched and waited for help to come...help that arrived almost too late...but not quite.
I don't know Wismond, and I likely never will. I don't know what kind of person he was before the earthquake, and I don't know how he'll choose to use this life which was spared by an extraordinary series of events. But I like to believe this is a young man full of hope, a young man who possesses a strength of spirit few of us will ever achieve. To survive 11 days alone, helpless, and vulnerable while buried alive and waiting, just waiting, for someone to hear him is a true miracle. I don't believe it happened by chance. I believe good will come out of this, not only in the more intimate picture of this young man but also in the greater landscape of Haiti.
My heart breaks and my tears fall for the Haitians. Their pain is incomprehensible to me. I have never experienced such destruction. It's ironic, I suppose, that my sympathetic heartbreak offered from miles and miles away is comforted by the strength of the Haitian people themselves and their resiliency in the face of such loss. Wismond's story lifts my spirits and gives me hope. It renews my belief in miracles, a belief that has never really faltered but has grown stagnate at times. Tonight as I close my eyes and offer my prayers for Haiti and others around the world experiencing tremendous suffering, I do so not hoping for another miracle tomorrow but expecting one.
Monday, January 18, 2010
From Tragedy, Triumph
It's been quite a while since I've written here. Over two months, in fact. I've been otherwise occupied with a few things, including a couple of writing projects, studying for the GRE (just in case I decide to subject myself to more school), and the chaos of the holidays. However, I've been plotting my return for some time now. First, I thought the first day of the new year would be the perfect time for a new post. You know, begin things off on the right foot. But, honestly, I got preoccupied, and the day slipped by awful fast. Then, I thought I would write about the University of Alabama winning the National Championship...and offer my defense to those who believe the win should have an asterisk beside it in the record books. Obviously, that post never came. And before you get started, it had nothing to do with my not having a proper defense. It has more to do with the fact that I enjoy reading smack talk, but I rarely find it worth it to get involved in it. Just for the record, I hated to see Colt McCoy get injured, but injuries are part of the game. If Texas fans (or Auburn fans) want an asterisk beside the National Championship game, then Texas has to put an asterisk beside their game against Oklahoma due to Sam Bradford's injury and so on and so on until pretty much every win of any significance for pretty much all the teams has an asterisk beside it. All right, so I do still have a spark in me, but it wasn't a need to defend a football game that finally brought me back.
Unfortunately, it was a combination of the devastation in Haiti with the recent tragic loss of an old friend that finally gave me the push I needed to get back in the saddle. And even with all of that, I gave myself a few days to process before I put my fingers to the keys. I've spoken about death here before. The loss of life is something that's inevitable but nonetheless shocking, especially when it happens suddenly to someone you knew and more universally to a people who desperately needed so much help to begin with. We find ourselves asking questions like, "Why him and not me?" or "Why there and not here?" They're typical questions, yes, but they still swirl around in our heads as we attempt to find a purpose for such sadness.
The Haitians touched a special place in my heart. At this time, I'm not in a position to give a lot financially, but my prayers are with them. I think one of the most amazing things about the whole catastrophe is the resiliency of the Haitian people. Days and days after the initial earthquake, people are still being pulled alive from the rubble, people who have lived on little more than a will to survive and a faith that someone will save them. Even in the midst of devastating loss, there have been countless examples of Haitians lifting their hands up in praise to their God, the One who is their foundation, their hope. Most of their praise is in their native language, French. However, I did hear one group of orphans singing a song in English, a song I first learned in praise and worship:
Every move I make, I make in You!
You make me move, Jesus!
Every breath I take, I breathe in You!
Every step I take, I take in You!
You are my way, Jesus!
Every breath I take, I breathe in You!
Waves of mercy, waves of grace,
Everywhere I look, I see Your face!
Your love has captured me!
Oh, my God, this love,
How can it be?
This is a joyful song. A song of praise and thanksgiving. I have to ask myself if I would be so quick to offer such praise if I were in the same situation. I became frustrated during a cold snap a few weeks ago when our water froze over and a pipe burst. I didn't throw a temper tantrum or anything to that degree, but I didn't feel joyful over our lack of showers and toilets in seventeen-degree weather. Showers and toilets are the least of the problems in Haiti, where people beg for just a sip of water or a bite to eat or are desperate for medical attention. My heart broke over the story of an 11-year-old girl, who survived until rescuers were able to free her from the rubble only to die hours later because the resources weren't available to adequately treat her injuries. According to a relative, some of her last words were, "Mother, don't let me die." 11 years old. 11 years old and having to face something like that. There are no words to express such sorrow. But the reality is that 11 year olds face these situations on a daily basis, here in the United States and across the world. They may not endure earthquakes, but they do endure abuse and hunger and sickness. As we extend our hands and our hearts to Haiti, we must accept this wake up call to continue such compassion. Other circumstances of suffering may not be as publicized as Haiti's, but that does not mean they're any less critical.
In the days following the Haiti tragedy, tragedy struck a bit closer to home. A friend I knew from the University of Alabama drowned while duck hunting with his dad in Arkansas. This friend and I hadn't kept in touch much over the last few years outside of facebook, but I could still see he was accomplishing extraordinary things. In May, he would've graduated from Memphis Theological Seminary, and he already served as a pastor for a small church here in Alabama. He was moving forward with hope and promise and vigor. Upon hearing of his death, my heart broke for his family and his church. He was 25 years old...just the beginning for most people...but for him, his journey was complete. It caused me to pause and think, as I have at other moments of great loss. It was a shocking jolt, a reminder that life really is fleeting. One moment everything feels right, and in the next, it has all changed. I don't feel sorry for my friend because I know his heart was with God, and I believe that's where his soul is now. I hurt for those who will feel his loss in their daily lives...and I hurt a little for myself, as I move forward on my path again recognizing that there are few certainties. Tomorrow may never come. That's why the now is so precious.
I'm still wandering a bit on my journey. I've taken a few detours here and there. Recently, things have not been going quite as I had hoped, but I still have this moment to continue to strive forward. I have no good answer to why it was them and not me other than I suppose I still have work left to do. Hopefully, in the end, I'll be able to look back and realize that through the ups and downs my journey somehow made a difference. I know my friend's did.
Tragedy, whether wide-scale or more personal, rarely comes with a logical and comforting explanation, but I do believe that tragedy pushes the human spirit forward in a way nothing else can. Through tragedy comes triumph. I believe that. I really do.
Unfortunately, it was a combination of the devastation in Haiti with the recent tragic loss of an old friend that finally gave me the push I needed to get back in the saddle. And even with all of that, I gave myself a few days to process before I put my fingers to the keys. I've spoken about death here before. The loss of life is something that's inevitable but nonetheless shocking, especially when it happens suddenly to someone you knew and more universally to a people who desperately needed so much help to begin with. We find ourselves asking questions like, "Why him and not me?" or "Why there and not here?" They're typical questions, yes, but they still swirl around in our heads as we attempt to find a purpose for such sadness.
The Haitians touched a special place in my heart. At this time, I'm not in a position to give a lot financially, but my prayers are with them. I think one of the most amazing things about the whole catastrophe is the resiliency of the Haitian people. Days and days after the initial earthquake, people are still being pulled alive from the rubble, people who have lived on little more than a will to survive and a faith that someone will save them. Even in the midst of devastating loss, there have been countless examples of Haitians lifting their hands up in praise to their God, the One who is their foundation, their hope. Most of their praise is in their native language, French. However, I did hear one group of orphans singing a song in English, a song I first learned in praise and worship:
Every move I make, I make in You!
You make me move, Jesus!
Every breath I take, I breathe in You!
Every step I take, I take in You!
You are my way, Jesus!
Every breath I take, I breathe in You!
Waves of mercy, waves of grace,
Everywhere I look, I see Your face!
Your love has captured me!
Oh, my God, this love,
How can it be?
This is a joyful song. A song of praise and thanksgiving. I have to ask myself if I would be so quick to offer such praise if I were in the same situation. I became frustrated during a cold snap a few weeks ago when our water froze over and a pipe burst. I didn't throw a temper tantrum or anything to that degree, but I didn't feel joyful over our lack of showers and toilets in seventeen-degree weather. Showers and toilets are the least of the problems in Haiti, where people beg for just a sip of water or a bite to eat or are desperate for medical attention. My heart broke over the story of an 11-year-old girl, who survived until rescuers were able to free her from the rubble only to die hours later because the resources weren't available to adequately treat her injuries. According to a relative, some of her last words were, "Mother, don't let me die." 11 years old. 11 years old and having to face something like that. There are no words to express such sorrow. But the reality is that 11 year olds face these situations on a daily basis, here in the United States and across the world. They may not endure earthquakes, but they do endure abuse and hunger and sickness. As we extend our hands and our hearts to Haiti, we must accept this wake up call to continue such compassion. Other circumstances of suffering may not be as publicized as Haiti's, but that does not mean they're any less critical.
In the days following the Haiti tragedy, tragedy struck a bit closer to home. A friend I knew from the University of Alabama drowned while duck hunting with his dad in Arkansas. This friend and I hadn't kept in touch much over the last few years outside of facebook, but I could still see he was accomplishing extraordinary things. In May, he would've graduated from Memphis Theological Seminary, and he already served as a pastor for a small church here in Alabama. He was moving forward with hope and promise and vigor. Upon hearing of his death, my heart broke for his family and his church. He was 25 years old...just the beginning for most people...but for him, his journey was complete. It caused me to pause and think, as I have at other moments of great loss. It was a shocking jolt, a reminder that life really is fleeting. One moment everything feels right, and in the next, it has all changed. I don't feel sorry for my friend because I know his heart was with God, and I believe that's where his soul is now. I hurt for those who will feel his loss in their daily lives...and I hurt a little for myself, as I move forward on my path again recognizing that there are few certainties. Tomorrow may never come. That's why the now is so precious.
I'm still wandering a bit on my journey. I've taken a few detours here and there. Recently, things have not been going quite as I had hoped, but I still have this moment to continue to strive forward. I have no good answer to why it was them and not me other than I suppose I still have work left to do. Hopefully, in the end, I'll be able to look back and realize that through the ups and downs my journey somehow made a difference. I know my friend's did.
Tragedy, whether wide-scale or more personal, rarely comes with a logical and comforting explanation, but I do believe that tragedy pushes the human spirit forward in a way nothing else can. Through tragedy comes triumph. I believe that. I really do.
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