ometimes life reveals some sad connections. One day you will read a sad thing, and then you will see the very same sad thing, and then a few days later you might hear about the sad thing once more. And it gives you pause; Maybe it's time to pray for those who are at the heart of the sadness.First Sad Thing: On Monday, Caelah and I read a little French book that breaks our hearts, and makes it very hard for me to choke out the last few pages:
A tsunami strikes an island and many people are swept away. A woman awakes and hears a baby cry. The woman has lost her husband. The baby has lost his father. In the hospital, baby reaches for the woman, whose hair reminds him of his mother. But the woman is not ready to give her love to anyone. Baby begins to fade. Then slowly, slowly the woman begins to want the baby to stroke her hair, and she finds it hard to resist holding him close. Finally, she takes him as her own and names him after the husband she lost.Second Sad Thing: Tuesday, Caelah and I begin to study earthquakes. We sketch diagrams and learn new terms. Eventually we look at a Seismic Monitor-- an updated global map of where earthquakes have recently struck. Yellow means an earthquake has struck within the last two weeks, orange means two days, red means today. The diameter of the circle represents the magnitude. I ask her to write down the names of two places in each category. I lean over her shoulder and see it: A big red circle enveloping Sumatra completely.
Third Sad Thing: We are driving to our Wednesday Bible Study and suddenly the words flood into my ears; "a magnitude 7.7 earthquake struck off the coast of Sumatra sending a tsunami rushing to shore. The death count is nearly 300 and rising." I look sharply at Caelah. She understands.
Sadness.
And at the heart of the sadness are mothers without children and children without mothers and people without hope. I will pray into the heart of sadness.
