The panel was simple, silent, and almost unmarked. There were no signs or indicators that it was on the wall. In the designer’s opinion, the obvious did not need to be emphasised. Until I became aware, I had not considered what actions I would take if there were a fire emergency. Now that I had seen the panel, my mind slowed down with visuals bright in my imagination, and I stood, still wondering.
As the panel scene continues to speak, I start this morning with several whispers shaping how I see the coming day.
It is easy to presume one is not at risk. The candid, what I do not know or choose to ignore feeds my sense of invincibility. I am confident everything is going in the right direction. I am sure that I am safe. I have no plans to the contrary. The amount of mental and physical preparation is limited at best. Most days, I spend no time on the subject. Consequently, there are no emergency panels in my life. Tools, plans, and resources are focused on the moment without an emergency.
Help is close; it is around us even if we do not know it is there. I had yet to notice the panel. It has always been there, ready, waiting, for a time of need. At times, I am still trying to figure out what I can do to help myself in a time of emergency need. I forget the first responders closest to me. The emergency closest to my soul is the big one I often push away. Divinity’s response is to do her part first; “Christ’s death was also a one-time event, but it was a sacrifice that took care of sins forever. And so, when he next appears, the outcome for those eager to greet him is, precisely, salvation.” (Hebrews 9.28)
Today’s risks are opportunities. I know I am under threat. I also know I can complement Divinity’s work with words and actions of hope, compassion, and kindness. My response to others is a gift to myself.
