“The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is upon me,
for the LORD has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted…”
I’m sitting at my computer listening to the sounds of home. The dishwasher is running in the kitchen. Jane Gray and her cousin are giggling from the back bedroom… they should have been asleep an hour ago. Both our dogs have snuck onto the sectional sofa and are snoring. This is my home. And in this moment all is right with our world. But even in the peace and quiet, I know that it isn’t always this way.
Earlier today I attended a funeral for a giant. I didn’t know Mac Hurstell personally, but I am friends with his daughter, Bethany, and his son-in-law, Frank. When I heard of his death on Monday, I kept praying that it was all just a bad dream. I know what it’s like to love a father who seems larger-than-life… To love a man who devotes his entire being to serving his family… To feel safe and secure in a world where your dad is always and only a phone call away. I know what it’s like to love a giant. And listening to the stories of family and friends today, I know that the Hurstell kids understand that kind of love too. What I haven’t learned quite yet, is what exactly to do when giants fall.
The service was beautiful… It was the kind of service all of us would hope for. In the midst of the death, there was life. Ironically, that’s the word I would use to describe the whole thing… Life-giving. In the middle of darkness, there was light.
I still clearly remember standing in my bathroom at Mississippi College fifteen years ago and listening in disbelief as my mom explained to me by phone that my dad (in Germany at the time) was safe, but that I should go turn on the television because something terrible had happened. I watched in horror as the second plane hit tower 2. Not quite knowing what to do, I finished getting ready for the day and went on to my English lit class. I wasn’t surprised to find out that everything for the day had been cancelled, but this was new ground… I just wasn’t quite sure what to do when towers were falling.
A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of returning to New York City for a fun weekend get away. Out of a strong sense of duty and respect, we chose to spend some of our time at Ground Zero. On a pervious trip to NYC I had actually stayed in the Marriott World Trade Center, and I have always known I wanted to go back there. Of course, 20 years and 1 terrorist attack later, it was unrecognizable to me.
And there were holes where towers once stood.
The only thing I did remember was the Century 21 store where I bought a Nicole Miller bag so many years ago… Go figure.
As we walked through the park, I couldn’t help but notice all the signs of new life… New growth.
And reminders of death… of loss.
And then I saw this little guy…
I guess that’s what you do when towers and giants fall. You find the light, and move toward it. I recognize that life and death are simultaneously in this space and time. There isn’t one without the other. And it’s sometimes within the context of death and dark that we find The Light.
“In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
missihippie 