Yahoo! News reported, “Search and rescue planes scoured waters off the southern tip of Vietnam on Monday, searching for any trace of a Malaysia Airlines jetliner 48 hours after it vanished from radar screens with 239 people on board.” Apart from the question of, “How does a jetliner with an almost impeccable safety record simply, but horrifically, ‘simply’ disappear?” the more haunting realization is that 239 husbands, wives, children, businessmen, and vacationers traveling in groups or traveling alone, suddenly and violently had life taken from them. And many more husbands, wives, children, parents, friends, and other loved ones were grieving deaths that 48 hours after the fact were still submerged in questions and uncertainties. The enormity of loss – loss restricted to one incident in a singular moment of time -- overwhelms me, and yet the rest of the world continued to conduct business, to grumble about the traffic and the weather, and to head home for a relaxing evening. With only a cursory glimpse of the collage of faces and personalities that death claimed, we gave little attention to that haunting realization of 239 lives being snuffed out, apart from occasionally checking the news to see if the “why” of the big disappearance had been solved. It reminds me of the days following 9/11, closer to home, and 239 was only a fraction of the number of lives abruptly, horrendously silenced. I was in the New York City area when it turned into a war zone and the presence of death was inescapable. Returning to California a week later, it seemed many people were already forgetting, and I wanted to scream, just to awaken their sensitivities.
It’s a reality that is often faced when tragedy interrupts, when relationships are broken, when hopes and dreams are trampled or shredded. We are cocooned by our loss and we wonder who is really paying attention. And deep, suffocating loss is never swept away because the funeral or the divorce is “over,” or even when acceptance acknowledges that life will never, ever be the same again. We groan deeply within ourselves even when outwardly we appear to be occupied with the “other” things of life. The silent tears, the longings, the anger, the questions, the uncertainties – they become the fabric of our lives, and we want to scream, just to awaken the sensitivities of someone.
Two familiar psalms remind us there is “someone” whose sensitivities are always mindful and always responsive to what is happening in our lives. Our God, our Father, knows our thoughts and our feelings. He sees us whether we are traveling to the funeral or desperately trying to grieve and move on within the four walls of our own home. He knows the words we want to say, the words we try to say. He embraces us with His presence, wanting what is best for us. We could attempt to run from our need, but God would still be with us. In the darkness of our desperation, He reveals His presence and gives His light. His heart is for us, and His presence is unfailing. He is the shepherd who provides, the one who will lead us to rest, peace, and strength. He will quiet our fears as we walk through the valleys of today and as we fear the valleys of tomorrow. He comforts and protects within the closeness of His presence. He assures us there is hope for all of our tomorrows, and even then, He will continue to give His goodness and His unfailing love.
Father, thank You that even though I may still scream out to You in the suffocation of my loss, You are fully aware, You are fully caring, You are always, always with me.............
– Bev
(Related Bible reading: Psalm 139:2-12,17,18; Psalm 23:1-6)
