It was September 11th, 2001. I was seven months pregnant laying on a grassy hill at the ball fields with my husband, father and sons. We had come to stare at the sky. “Boys, remember this empty sky,” my father said, “you will never see it like this again.” There were no planes, not even clouds, and my very spirit seemed to have lifted from my heavy body high into the blue. I needed to watch and connect with the sorrows erupting just one hundred miles to the north. It was all I could do.
So many people rushed in to help, traveling thousands of miles, as I would later go to Louisiana after Katrina, but this time all I could do was love. The boys colored pictures and I sent them along with others to the firemen. I was amazed at the details their little hands formed in the drawings, generated clearly by the compassion in their new little hearts. It was what they had to give.
At a gas station in Mississippi after that horrible storm, we straggled out of the van and into the little store. The two ladies behind the counter had seen our kind come in and realized our mission. “Did you drive all the way down here to help us?” They smiled and sung in their sweet drawl. They had no idea how we had served, just deeply grateful that we had loved.
There will always be tragedies and I can always do something. As a child of God, I am to be alert to the ways He moves me to serve and to bring the love of Christ along with me.
Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. Do everything in love. 1 Corinthians 16:13-14
Meeting God at the Park 