Certain events, actions, and results call for tears. More than just tears, these emotional cavities in our lives call for true lament. It is painful. It is real. It is life. No matter how intense the grieving process is, it doesn’t seem to be enough. Regardless of how sympathetic everyone is around you, it doesn’t seem to be enough. Even with support, process and closure, the unendingness of it all seems to be unbearable. Yet, a new day dawns, the sun rises, and the question which sits unanswered is simply, ‘then?”.
What comes after the tragedy? Is there a next step after the high? Can we live to face another day after the low?
In any and every life these questions come home in time. It is as if something in life is extracting its revenge for the beauty which pervades every community.
We all, especially with age, come face to face with tragedy. No matter how often, or not, it comes I do not find it gets any easier. Even as I understand the pain drowns my soul. Even with clarification and blame the tragedy claws at the life which sustains my heart. I know there is a God, I understand there is hope, but somehow none of this seems particular relevant in this moment and time.
I wish this was a new event. I wish nobody had ever experienced this presence of despair, the absence of hope, or the longing of something different. I long for the day when there is no battle. Yet, yesterday the “village Dibon climbs to its chapel in the hills, goes up to lament. Moab weeps and wails over Nebo and Medba. Every head is shaved bald, every beard shaved clean. They pour into the streets wearing black, go up on the roofs, take to the town square, everyone in tears, everyone in grief.” (Isaiah 15.2, 3) The day ends and the morning comes; then?
As tragic as life can be, the question is never about what was but what is. We can hold onto hope or walk abandoned.
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