I try to not let myself follow anything in the news too closely, because I am unable to distance myself from any tragedy, trauma, suffering, etc. My heart feels like it sinks to my abdomen and I become paralyzed. Such extreme compassion and empathy is a unique gift the Lord has placed in me, and it is what drives the way I live my life. I am grateful that God has given me the ability to uniquely feel what He feels when He looks at His creation- both the beautiful and the broken (and where those things co-exist). It is also really hard to bear, and it can easily become debilitating and lead me into deep despair.
So while I knew of this tornado, and the one that followed a week later in the same-ish area, I had no idea of any of the details. It's sad, you know, when we hear 20-some people died and have to categorize it into some sort of "smaller tragedy" because it's a smaller number than the daily deaths resulting from war, poverty, etc. I hate that this little part of me is like, "well, that isn't that many, comparatively..." Because that number, no matter how small or large, is completely inadequate to convey the vastness of the devastation- it is only one part of it.
So tonight my friend drove me through the town. Living in the midwest, I have a pretty good base expectation of what I will see as far as the material destruction left in the wake of a tornado. It is horrific to see, without a doubt, but I can stomach it I guess. So I start praying for this community as we are driving...
And then my friend says, "oh my....... oh no....... this must be the school..... oh......" I look to my left and all words get stuck in my throat. I've spent the past 30 minutes trying to find a photo online that would at least give an idea of what I saw, and this is the "best" I could find...
Directly in the line of destruction was Plaza Towers Elementary School. Today there is no evidence of a school building, but only a memorial of loss and devastation. The school property is fenced off, with the remaining rubble still piled inside the fence, crosses stand for those who died in the school, and the fence is a giant collage of t-shirts, stuffed animals, pictures, flags, notes, etc. And 8 weeks later, the fence is still lined with people mourning the incalculable loss this tornado has caused and praying prayers that I found myself unable to pray. It was one of those moments I will never forget- there are no categories for tragedies, and definitely not ones that can be identified by a "death toll." In a moment, EVERYTHING changed for people here. I looked through the remaining frame of a house at the closet where someone's clothes were still hanging... I saw the messages of strength and hope spray painted on the remaining pieces of people's homes... I watched people continue to clean and sift through the endless debris... I looked into the eyes of those on the street and saw the weariness, the confusion, the pain, the unanswerable questions... and as we followed a car onto the next street, where there is little evidence of this disaster, I wondered what it would be like to have to drive through all of this everyday when your daily life carries on while your neighbor down the street struggles to salvage anything from their past "daily life," which is completely non-existent now...
I don't know what to do with all that. I can forget about all of this tomorrow, and continue to be ignorant of the endless similar stories of great sorrow that are happening around the world every day. But this community probably can hardly remember what their life was like 8 weeks ago today- hours before everything would change forever. How can I justify concern about my current situation of homelessness when I see what these people have had to face for the past 55 days and will have to face for who knows how many days, weeks, years to come? How can I worry about having very little money when I see how families have lost people they love, their homes, all their belongings, the pictures and journals and videos representing the memories they have created? How can the rest of the world carry on with "business as usual" while people are suffering so much that their lives have stopped? It seems so fucking wrong... but what are we supposed to do?
I'm thankful for stumbling upon a journal entry from 8 years ago last night in which I wrote about the clear conviction I had that the primary call on my life is to pray. There is little I will be able to do in this world, but I can do exponentially more through prayer. I always need to remember that, because it reminds me that I'm not God- I can't fix anything or save anyone, I can only be used by Him as He sees best. So I pray. And I write, hoping many more will pray. But what do I DO??
God has wired me to walk with others in crisis, which I'm learning more and more is a very rare thing. I never finished writing about the 56 hours of craziness I had a few weeks ago, but one thing I realized during all of that is that I'm operating in full confidence of the gifts God has given me when I'm with others in crisis- I go on auto-pilot and become waaaay less selfish and walk in constant communion with the Lord... it's amazing. So knowing this about myself, how do I guard against my heart being ripped to shreds day after day just thinking about what I saw today??? Seriously, how can I just carry on with things as if I never saw the flattened remains of this neighborhood? How can I just carry on when my friends are dying of cancer, or when friends are fighting poverty's destructive grips on their family, or when friends are relapsing left and right, or when a friend is just having a really shitty day? I've never known what to do, and tonight this question is tearing me apart...
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