Tragedy and Irony

Across the ocean the earth shook at a magnitude of 9.0.  I stood at my television - still.  Paralyzed.

After the earth shook the chaos, the wall of water washed over a world.  Lives lost.  Homes splintered into nothingness.  Topography forever changed.  Across the Pacific I mop my floor, water disappearing in minutes, leaving behind clean, order, things the way they should be.

After the shaking and water, the nuclear fears arose.  Fears of explosion.  Fears of radiation.  Across the miles we receive a call that a dear church member is twisted inside, and seeking out the healing touch of radiation.

Rescue deemed impossible, as snow falls, blankets a world already beaten beyond recognition.  Cold takes lives.  I say a prayer, outside, barefoot in the grass as the sun sweetly warms my skin.  Clear, cloudless day.

Rumors of volcanic activity are whispered on the lips of the survivors, as the earth continues to move.  My vibrant children open their mouths in joyful songs, run carefree until their legs beg rest.

The primal instincts knock.  Survivors seek only food, water, and warmth.  Escape from the chaos, the pain, the destruction is impossible.  I turn off my television and sit down to eat a bountiful meal with my friends and family.

Let us pray for those in Japan.  

We have no other hope to cling to but the hope of a Good and Gracious God.