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.