Choosing Life

Many parents are grieving today. Mothers who sent their daughters to summer camp, often the one they themselves went to, are reeling in shock. Fathers who anticipated their little ones growing physically and spiritually over the summer face the knowledge that these precious girls’ ages will forever be frozen in time.

Any human with a beating heart feels a small part of these parents’ suffering. Yet, while the circumstances are unique, their pain isn’t. During our lives, as each day unfolds with opportunities and possibilities it similarly contains the potential for sadness and grief. Every day, parents are forced to part from a beloved child. Whether anticipated or unexpected, as a result of lengthy illness or sudden accident, death is a reality that we cannot escape, even when it comes in what seems to be an unnatural order.

However, loss usually takes place in private. It affects those in an immediate circle, devastating them even as they stand apart from the rest of the world. This is a good thing. Being constantly surrounded by tragedy inhibits our ability to live, to produce, to thrive. In times of war or calamity when death is a constant companion for a prolonged period, those who remain alive speak of shedding no tears and feeling little emotion. Only by numbing their hearts can they survive.

The tragedy of a river flooding in Texas and the ensuing loss, will quickly cease being headline news. For a longer time, it will haunt those who have children of similar ages, maybe encouraging a warmer good night hug or leading to an extra bedtime story being shared. For much more of an extended interval, it will remain front and center for the dozens of families who are personally bereaved. With faith and resilience, they too will pick up the shattered pieces of their lives and, while never forgetting those they lost, with God’s help they will move forward and reclaim joy.

This is as it should be. In a timeless paradox, facing the fragility of life propels us to cherish it.

Personally, I spent one day this week unable to function. After getting dressed and sending a granddaughter off to work, I got back into bed and wept. It was one year since our own beloved daughter’s death.

I didn’t anticipate my reaction. I knew the anniversary of the Hebrew date would be difficult and, along with my husband and other children, prepared for it. We hosted an uplifting women’s prayer service filled with family and friends.

I didn’t expect the English anniversary to be so much of a punch to the gut. It was. I canceled work meetings, ignored my obligations, and mourned. Sometimes, that is all you can do. But even during those hours when I couldn’t imagine feeling energetic and vibrant ever again, I knew that feeling to be an illusion.

It takes a great deal to smother the desire for life with which we are created. Sadly, for decades now our culture has been doing exactly that. It has promoted ideas that belong in death cults rather than championing God’s instruction, “Choose life.” I pray that the families who are grieving this week’s natural disaster have been inoculated against that fatalistic virus and despite the thunderbolt that has struck them, will feel their spirits rise again.

This Musing is dedicated in memory of those who lost their lives in Texas, as well as the five soldiers killed by a roadside bomb in Gaza last week. May all their memories be for a blessing.

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