I’m sitting here in my well-worn wicker chair enjoying a perfectly peaceful morning, watching the Cardinals and Titmice feed and the hummer darting here and there with spectacular agility, and it’s hard for me to imagine the chaos, desperation, and despair that at this moment in time is rampant in other parts of my world. Earthquakes, tornadoes, wars, disease, famine, murder and general mayhem all around me, everywhere. I know that my world is bigger than my lanai; bigger than my immediate family and my circle of friends; bigger than my city and my job; bigger than my state and bigger than my country. This big world of mine is so troubled. And here I sit . . .
Our Pastor recently asked the question that we have asked ourselves since time began: “What is your purpose here?” As Christians, we believe that our purpose is to love God and serve Him. Scripture tells us to love God with all our hearts, soul and mind, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. So, is my purpose served when I attend worship on Sunday; when I am friendly and kind to people I meet there or in the store after church, or on the street; when I give a dollar or two to the panhandler on the corner; when I send a few dollars to World Vision to help the children in Africa; when I occasionally visit a nursing home or Alzheimer Center? Or is more expected of me? Is it enough that I grieve for the victims of the Earthquakes. Is it enough that I grieve for African mothers, fathers, and children who are dying from Malaria or AIDS?
When I ask myself if I have “loved my neighbor as myself,” I have to answer truthfully that I haven’t. If my home was destroyed by an earthquake, and if I lost family members due to some tragic natural disaster, I would be there for me . . . I would spare no dollar nor effort to rebuild my life and the life of my loved ones who are so much a part of me. Yet, all I do for those fellow members of the human race who suffer such pain is send a few dollars and sit on my porch enjoying my peaceful life.
Several years ago my home was damaged when Hurricane Charlie blew through with great gusto and took my roof. Charlie was followed by two more hurricanes which were big rain-makers and although my roof had a tarp covering it, the rain made it’s way into the attic space and soon I stood in the living room and watched the ceiling fall. It’s difficult to describe the sense of loss that I experienced as I watched my home fall apart. This loss, of course, doesn’t compare with what the earthquake victims have experienced. But it helps me to get closer to understanding how devastated they must feel and to admire their strength and resiliency as they struggle to recover. Their catastrophic losses, so sudden and horrific, call for unbelievable courage and strength just to go on living. Is there something I can do to help? Is there some way to love them in the way God calls me to love them?
Seven years ago, I lost my husband after a long battle with cancer. His death was not unexpected but knowing it was coming didn’t alleviate the pain. Looking back, though, I understand that had he been taken from me suddenly and without warning, I would have suffered his loss in a very different way. Even though his long illness was difficult and painful, we had time! Time to say the things that needed to be said. Time to love one another in a way we hadn’t loved before. Time to remember all the good times and laugh at the not so good times. We were able to hold one another at the end and whisper our good-byes. I will be forever grateful for that time.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we all had that kind of time to prepare . . . but life isn’t always wonderful and folks the world over suffer enormous losses, suddenly and without warning, without understanding, and without the means to recover. Am I called to do more? What is expected of me? What is my purpose?
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