*************A reminder to us–to me–that the headlines of Typhoon Haiyan are not just lines to be aghast at, to cluck our tongues and move on; it is a reminder to in some way come alongside, knowing that the pain of these lives tossed about like toys on the waves and winds, some now dead, some left to live this horror, are folks just like us. Lord, help! So much pain!
“Three fast-food workers were found shot to death Wednesday . . .”
“An explosion caused by a leaking propane tank leveled a house, killing a woman . . .”
“A young actor was found dead in a hotel . . .”
“A former long-haul trucker was executed by injection Wednesday for raping and stabbing three women . . .”
“One body was discovered Wednesday in the wreckage of a pair of collapsed buildings . . .”
How many deaths was that—four, five, no seven? I scanned the news in the local paper as I sipped my hot coffee and nibbled the remaining crust of my whole grain toast. How could I just sit there eating—so uninvolved, so unaffected by the suffering of so many? Did the weight of all that pain only justify a few lines of ink and newsprint, read today, tossed tomorrow? I had become callused, hardened…
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