This week I’m on our annual family vacation. Every year it’s the same people. The same place. We’re people of the water, so naturally the beach is our go-to vacay. I seriously don’t know what I’d do if we couldn’t get here. It’s my happy place. This morning, my niece literally laid down in the sand to hug it. (I get it Caroline… I feel you.) And even thought this trip ALWAYS feels necessary, this year seemed even more important.
I must admit, this past month has been a tough one.
A precious mama accidentally left her baby in the backseat of the car on a hot Mississippi day.
A young child in our community passed away from leukemia while thousands of us prayed for healing.
A woman in California was brutally attacked, sexually assaulted, and denied justice.
A hate-filled man murdered 49 people in cold blood at an Orlando night club.
A two-year-old child was freakishly dragged away by a beast of an animal in literally the happiest place on earth.
I can’t turn on the news. The fear of what will happen next has almost consumed me lately. I wake up in the night and remember some of these recent stories. In my sleepy fog I think for a moment that it was all just a bad dream. And then I slowly awaken to the reality that it’s true. It’s a living nightmare. One minute I’m in tears, and the next moment I’m frantically trying to think of the next solution so that these things won’t ever happen again.
I read my Facebook feed and I know I’m not alone. Some of us are gracious and kind during these times. We’re sad. Heartbroken. And our posts clearly reflect that we weep with those who weep; mourn with those who mourn. Others of us are angry. Our posts seek justice for victims… Trying to make right what is wrong. Some of us even sound crazy. These events have struck a nerve. We’re all exposed now. Painfully aware of our own weakness and vulnerability.
It’s always interesting to me when we try and distance ourselves from tragedy. Honestly? I get it. When I was younger I worked with a woman who accidentally left her two young babies in the car all day. They lived. But I remember thinking, How is that possible? I could NEVER do something like that. A couple years later, I had my own baby girl. And what do you know? I accidentally left her in the car, on the backseat, while I went to run an errand. I still remember the flood of emotions that overwhelmed me as I walked back to my car 20 minutes later and saw her silently sleeping… Oblivious to the danger I had unintentionally put her in. I wanted to scream, cry, hide, vomit all at the same time. My immediate instinct was to NEVER TELL ANYONE what I’d done.
My sister works as a pediatric oncology nurse. She told me once that parents of healthy children often ask questions of her patients’ families. They say things like: Did you let him eat hotdogs? How long did you breastfeed when she was a baby? Do you use fabric softener in your laundry? Heat up food in plastic containers? Buy organic/ GMO free food? Every time she hears questions like this she wants to scream: IF WE KNEW WHAT CAUSED CANCER WE WOULDN’T BE IN THIS STUPID HOSPITAL!
In all of these stories there have been the side-line critics and arm chair quarterbacks: What kind of girl gets drunk at a party? What kind of parent lets their kid play in a lake in Florida? Nothing good happens at 2:00 am. We want to explain away the unpredictability of life by shifting the blame to someone or something in order to feel more secure. And I get it. I really do. If I can believe for even a minute that I’m somehow better than or more prepared than you, I have a temporary sense of relief. But the problem is that it doesn’t last. That reality slowly creeps back in and we remember our own humanity. Life hits us in the face, and we realize that we don’t have control. And for some of us, that’s the nightmare.
I’ve felt confused by the events in the last few weeks. I still believe God is good, but I don’t understand why he does’t just stop all this from happening. And then this morning, I was reading this:
“And now, finally, God answered Job from the eye of a violent storm. He said:
‘Why do you confuse the issue?
Why do you talk without knowing what you’re talking about?
Pull yourself together, Job!
Up on your feet! Stand tall!
I have some questions for you,
and I want some straight answers.
Where were you when I created the earth?
Tell me, since you know so much!‘“
I felt instantly convicted of my own arrogance and pride. I felt ashamed that I had the audacity to question The God of the universe… As if He had forgotten me… Forgotten us. So this morning I stood in the water and felt the waves knocking up against me. I felt the power in the water. The warmth of the sun. The texture of the sand. And I heard these verses over again in my head:
“Who came up with the blueprints and measurements?
How was its foundation poured,
and who set the cornerstone,
While the morning stars sang in chorus
and all the angels shouted praise?
And who took charge of the ocean
when it gushed forth like a baby from the womb?
That was me! I wrapped it in soft clouds,
and tucked it in safely at night.
Then I made a playpen for it,
a strong playpen so it couldn’t run loose,
And said, ‘Stay here, this is your place.
Your wild tantrums are confined to this place.’
“And have you ever ordered Morning, ‘Get up!’
told Dawn, ‘Get to work!’
So you could seize Earth like a blanket
and shake out the wicked like cockroaches?
As the sun brings everything to light,
brings out all the colors and shapes?”
I still don’t have answers to all my questions. I don’t know why children die and mothers weep and the entire Earth groans with unfulfilled longing. These waves of tragedy seem so strong and sometimes I wonder if they will completely wipe us out. But I do know this: I am not in control of this world. And I trust The One who is. And somehow tonight, in this place, in this moment, that is enough.
missihippie 