Nearly a week ago, tornadoes ravaged the South, devastating parts of Birmingham. Nearly 400, 000 people lost power in the state of Alabama alone. Hundreds lost their lives. Hundreds have yet to be found. Many weren't found whole. And families are broken. Towns erased. Lives a mess.And, by just a few miles, I was not one of them.
It's too soon to try to make sense of it all.
Nothing about this can be tied up in a bow. Nothing about it can be smoothed over with words even--especially not cliches, which tend to spill out of our mouths in times of grief. Even if "things like this bring out the best in people," it's still overwhelming and awful, and I can't get over that right now. Shouldn't get over that right now.
But there will be a time--weeks, maybe. Months. Maybe years--when people will want to piece things together, will be ready to question why God would allow such a thing (and ready to hear the answers), ready to open ourselves to hope again.
But for most people in Alabama right now, it's shock. And grief. And brokenness. And humility. And a feeling of helplessness. And absolutely the promise of hope. But not hope itself. Not yet.
All I know is that I'm increasingly grateful to have been spared, increasingly grieving over others' losses, and increasingly convinced that deep devastation needs time to heal, time before things can make any semblance of sense.
4 comments:
So glad to read that you're safe and sound!!!
I found your blog from Camille's page and wanted to tell you thank you. Your words were exactly how I have been feeling and thinking the past week and a half, but could not express.
Pam, thanks for your kind words and for taking the time to read. It's been quite a week and a half, hasn't it?
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