Too Many Whys

I didn’t respond well. We had an argument, well, more of a silence…the charged kind..where the molecules in the room morph and bend to create a foreign sense. We all know when it’s happening, there’s just no true way to describe or define. Why are you mad? I’m not. Yes you are. What did I do? I’m leaving you alone like you wanted. Whatever. Slam slam, walk away. Go to work, get kids off and running, find the lost cats.

Why can’t I let this go? Apologies happen, no big deal, a misunderstanding. What’s wrong with me today? Why? Is everyone okay? Kids? Yep. Friends? So far. Family? No issues that I know of.

Why the pit? Why the proximity to tears? What’s going on? All morning, a foreboding sense. All morning, feeling wronged but reacting so inappropriate. All morning, trudging around like grief my dearest pal.

I settled down just now to catch up on Facebook, to peruse Twitter, to read my fictional tale. An image, a story..I’m undone. I can’t breathe, silent weeping. Jaime and Ramon are installing a new front door. No need to alarm them. Crazy lady.

The little boy, looks just like my neighbor. Face on the beach, like he’s taking a solid nap. His little tennis shoes, red shirt, blue shorts…how I would have dressed my boys.  No life, gone, extinguished. A Syrian refugee family aimed for Canada. A man required to do what no father should have to do, conducting triage for one’s own family, left behind to provide the tone for the grief we all need to feel. The questions: What if this was us? What if that was my boy, my baby, my sweet sweet little man? No words, only swollen eyes, heavy hearts, questions with no answers.

I sit and watch my chickens, my large back yard, new paint on my house with new door currently undergoing installation. So many blessings. So much abundance. I WILL NOT feel guilt. I will not allow my life to be wrong. I do my very best to see it all, to count, to place appropriate credit. At this moment, however, I carry gratitude and grief simultaneously. One in each hand, like a balance. I hold wonder and confusion together. I bear my own blessing and deep deep pain for the plight of these 4 million Syrians, the 3 million Iraqis, looking for a glass of cold water, looking for a place to lay their children’s heads, a place to create a life free from utter despair. Desperation.

My tears just waiting to be let go. My mind reeling with questions. My heart breaking for the mothers, the fathers trying to do what is right and best for the future of their babies.

I remember our flood, the one that displaced our own people…Lyons, Longmont, Boulder, Estes Park…some for months, some for forever. The rallying, the heartfelt desire by churches, families, schools, businesses to offer the abundance, to make small sacrifices of comfort to provide relief. Posts on social media alerting the masses of how to help. Response poured in from all over the nation, a beautiful experience. Restoration in the faith of humanity. You see me. You love me. I needed you and you came. Thank you.

We now have this opportunity.  Let us keep our eyes wide open. Let us see and recognize when it’s our turn to jump in, to bring hope, salvation, supplies, shelter. Let me pressure my government, post a hashtag on Twitter, open my own home. We all have reasons for “not right now”. We all are busy. We all have lives, budgets, stress. But what if? What if this is our generation’s Holocaust? What if this is our test, where we can finally answer: Yes! That is how I responded. That is what we did. 

Instead of wondering…

*Ann Voskamp has provided a set of resources, opportunities for action. Please pray and ponder and do what you can, where you are moved. I will do the same. Please keep me posted and let us encourage one another in this good work.

Dear Aylan … dear world with a refugee crisis, dear all of us who have needed to be welcomed in

*Also, here is the article link. Please be careful, the content is graphic. I personally need to look at it to carry some of this burden.