Hello from Bloomsburg,
It’s Friday, and it’s been a week of extremes when it comes to what I was planned for and what I was not. It began with the Memorial Day, and I was fortunate to attend the commemoration of veterans at one of the most well-kept of area cemeteries. The event was nicely managed, and it reminded me of some of our better angels that we are all part of when we allow. Bella, the beetle, which received significant damage because of my mistake and misfortune, was in the body shop and was completed in time to pick it up on Thursday, so I could get the required vehicle inspection and oil change today before the month’s end. All of that was planned.
Going where I regularly go for my vehicle inspections and all, I made a phone call to a relative of the service manager, someone for whom I have tremendous appreciation, on multiple levels, and now lives in South Carolina. A bit surprisingly, he immediately answered the phone. I told him where I was and he informed me his brother had already texted him. We caught up a bit, and he noted he had another phone call, but would call back. Meanwhile, I caught up with a classmate from Iowa on a second phone call. As promised, my SC friend called back as promised and then told me to go back inside the auto facility because they had a question. As I walked in, I noted it was amazing that I got a phone call from South Carolina to come back into the shop. From behind the computer screen up pops the South Carolina friend. I think it took more than a second for it to register what had just happened. Oh my goodness!! I was almost speechless, which for those who know me, seldom happens. Not what I expected or whom I expected to find behind the counter.
We walked outside and he informed me that they had gotten in from the South at 3:30 a.m.. Then the conversation took a turn. He asked if I heard anything, to which I responded, “No.” The name I heard next, I had just read about in the morning paper. His great-nephew had tragically died getting hit by a car. The details of the accident are heartbreaking, and the mother, whom I have known since middle school, the father, and a sibling are beyond devastated. The grandmother, was my former house cleaner, and I spoke at her funeral when she passed of a heart issue in her 30s. I have been blessed by now four generations of this family and my heart aches immeasurably for them in this time. Much like a trip to ICU in Geisinger made in the cold of winter February 2016, today on a beautiful day, I drove to Orangeville to spend time with extended family, some of the same people, a few months beyond 10 years. There was no question that I needed to find them as again they needed to know that the love and care they have always given was there in return.
Any loss of life is profound, and it can be difficult to make sense of our finitude, but the number of ways this goes beyond anything I’ve experienced in some time, be it in the parish, in life, even in my own family, cannot be fathomed. The crying out in pain, in shock, in devastation, wondering where is the love, compassion, or any idea of mercy from God goes out into the heavens in a way unparalleled. There are no adequate, nor should there be, Christian platitudes that make this acceptable. There is no manner or degree of emotion that can cry out in lamentation that provides some sense of solace in this time. The change that has been thrust upon anyone who knows this child, this creation of two loving people, cannot be understood, nor can it perhaps ever be. Where are you, God, in this time of need that cannot be measured by emotion, voiced in any utterance of language? How do we find you? While I can certainly understand the clichés of fairness, I do not want to use the word because it is trite at best. How is it such tragedy is cast upon a mother, a daughter, who lost her mother too early? What allows for a parent, grandparent, and now great-grandparent to suffer such profound pain? How, O Lord, do we find you in the midst of such grief?
Generally I write a blog for myself and my own struggles, but this time I write on the behalf of a family I love deeply, a family who has blessed my time in Bloomsburg. When I spoke at the funeral 10 years ago, I recounted how meeting a young woman in the laundromat changed my life. It was true then, and it’s more profoundly true today. God, you have noted in your word, “Your thoughts are not our thoughts, and Your ways are not our ways.” Indeed, but how do I find you in the midst of the brokenness and heartache I see in the people I love. Two young girls are now amazing young ladies and I saw their tears then and I see them now. Two incredibly faithful great-grandparents are stoically again at the head of a family you call your children. I hurt, Lord, for them. I am unwilling to accept that allowances of tragedy are simply life because if I do, I know not where to turn. Lord, into their grief, our grief, I beg you to show a sign of the great compassion we so desperately need in this time. Please show us there is more. Grant them the promise of your love and grace in this time.
Thank you as always for reading,
Michael
thewritingprofessor55 