How to Respond to Tragedy

Yesterday, lightning struck a tree next to the row of homes and a fire started at my brother's house. Neighbors who were home began banging on everyone's doors.  The fire grew and intensified.  The Fire department was called.   But flooding waters and Houston traffic (which is always bad), hampered response time. 

One of the neighbors called my brother who was sitting at a Starbucks preparing to call our Dad to wish him a happy birthday.  Dan owns a large four year old mutt of a dog named Chester (short for Chesterson), who was kenneled in the town home. He immediately hopped back in his car and began what should have been a 5-15 minute drive even with heavy traffic. We were driving home from canceled swimming lessons in a nasty rain/hail storm.  My sister called to tell me Dan was trapped in traffic and that possibly Chester was being burned in the house.  My kids prayed and we added a special intention to Saint Francis to look after Uncle Dan's dog.   I confess, I was not optimistic.  But we prayed and waited.  

Meanwhile, my brother was stuck in maddening traffic owing to floods caused by the storm that started the fire.  Traffic lights were out.  Roads were closed.  Water was high.  The whole trip, my brother was anxious and worried and praying.  His dog Chester was trapped.  Was he already dead? Was he choking and dying alone?  My brother said on the news, (They reported the story), he had a panic attack about Chester.  So what did he do?  He prayed.  He prayed and prayed and prayed.  He told my mom that on route home in the midst of all that worry, knowing everything he owned in addition to his dog was being consumed by fire, he saw a woman with her car broken down in the middle of the road.  

Her voice trembled as she told me what happened next.  He got out.  "I can't help Ches but I can help her." he said he was thinking.   He helped push the car to the side of the road and then drove on.  When he got to his home, there was Chester sitting being hugged by the fireman that saved him.   My sister took Ches to the vet for a check up because he was wheezing and coughing up blood.   Friends took my brother in, and there have been already, many offers of help, and I know the hard road to recovery starts today.

But the bottom line is, while everything was destroyed, my brother is safe, no one was hurt. Chester is doing better, and while my brother lost everything he owned, he is a very rich man indeed.   I'm gushing because I can't but admit I'm very proud of him.  I don't know if I in the midst of a profound agony, uncertainty and doubt, could see an other, a stranger and accept the grace to stop to help. 

Chester and the fireman who rescued him.

Take care Dan.  Prayers.  Love you from Maryland.  
Proud to be your sister.

Prayers for Haiti

By now you know a 7.0 earthquake shattered Haiti. Reports are coming in in dribs and drabs but the situation is grave. Early pictures show a lot of tilted and shaken buildings and indicate many injured and mass chaos.

Every once in a while, we get a nudge, a request to pray. It is a reminder that we can never pray enough. It's a funny thing about prayer. For me, when I claim I don't have the time, the day is hard, the tone is hard, the process of getting through everything is hard. Conversely, when I nag myself to make the time, even if things are difficult, they aren't hard.

Prayer doesn't always alter the situation the way we wish, but it always alters the one offering the prayer. We cannot seek God's aid or love or attention in our direct petitions and not be affected by that calling out or His answer.

In the past, I've asked for any number of things, most of them by the world's standard, probably silly. God has always answered with lavish abundance. It humbles, or it should.

We often wait to pray until life brings us a situation that pulls us to our knees. But these sorts of massive tragedies remind me that I ought to be willing to pray more often and that every day with all the people I know, is a gift and rare and precious.

What we should hope, is the mere knowledge of others suffering, is enough to bring us to our knees, and to ask, and then to listen to how we are to be of service. At times like this, prayer is not the very least we can do, it is the beginning of what we must do.

Then, if you feel called to do something more physical and fiscal in response;

http://www.crs.org

They have a special fund already set up specifically for Haiti; and they are known to be good stewards to the sick, the poor and the suffering internationally.

Airport Security Depends

It’s always a cheap shot to talk about the hassles of travel, but when the flight attendant announces that the bathroom on the plane is inoperative ten minutes before boarding, when life hands one something that choice, that absurd, that rich with possibilities...well, I just couldn't resist.

People raced to take care of things and fretted when the stewardess reminded us that drinks would soon be served. It didn’t help the collective mood of the passengers when the pilot asked us to reshuffle seats prior to take off to “balance the load.” Had the co-pilot taken the effect of full bladders into account when considering how the weight needed to be redistributed?
As the plane began its taxi down the runway, preparing to leave ground and reasonable walking distance from working facilities for the next two hours, I heard speculation about what other essential non-essential equipment on the airbus might not be fully operational. Those of us who had decided we had camel kidneys and would grit it out, began to experience flyer’s remorse.


As the news traveled through the back of the plane, the woman next to me who had missed the announcement at the gate asked “What are we supposed to do? Open a window?” I had seen Goldfinger and said, “I hope not.”


The first thirty minutes passed uneventfully, except I was keenly aware of the fact that there was at least 1000 miles to go and 30,000 feet between me and the nearest restroom. Turbulence became an issue, making those of us who chose fortitude over the expedient stress of trying to go through a line longer than the one for security in less than ten minutes, even more regretful. Our agony would be prolonged and exquisite, just as theirs had been intense and brief. As the star bellied sneeches on the plane, they could rightfully gloat at those of us who had none upon thars and we prayed for brisk tail winds and no funny jokes or sneezes that might make sitting in the middle row a bit awkward.


At this juncture, the stewardess, who had overheard the word “bathroom” from our conversations, discovered that we thought the bathroom was broken. “They announced it at our gate ten minutes before boarding.” We explained.


Going back to the front, the stewardess spoke to us all, “Our bathroom is working. They must have gotten the wrong flight number.”


I’ll say. Some other flight has some really good material for a humor column, particularly if it was the flight boarding from DC to Vegas.


Day One of the Erma Bombeck Conference...I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, try www.humor-blogs.com!