The fallout from the news is sad, the tragedies replayed over and over. The distance makes my imagination expand fear. I look at my children and wonder, is this the world my generation will leave for them?
But as the rescuers sift through the rubble of earthquakes, tsunamis, and explosions, they find sparks of life, dim, but still glowing. Like a small flame they are cared for, nurtured, and carried to a place where they can recover and grow stronger. The rescuers too, are sparks, bringing hope in the washed-out, shaken-up world. They brace their faith and their courage to face smells, unstable rubble, and mud. They keep going, retrieving bodies, dead or alive, for loved ones who wait and wonder.
The drift from the explosions floats on the wind, and anxiety travels with it. But everywhere it lands, we again find sparks; people who say, “we can survive all this, we have done it before.” The sparks of reassurance feed the small flames of faith and hope inside of others. These small flames grow to become fires that fuel a desire to reach out and help one another. The fire of hope works as a “back-burning” tool, helping us to stand up and let our work be counted to make an effort to make a difference; if not there, at the heart of the current disaster, then here, at the heart of our communities, in the hearts of our neighbors.
A world that acts from the heart. I hope this is the world I can leave to my children. Isn’t that in the end, what really matters?
Mark 12:30-31 And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment. And the second is like, namely this, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these.