Contrasts

     A family just laid their mother to rest, the house is too quiet, the surreal feeling blankets all while life demands to go on. Two dear young-twentys are living and working in Israel and Palestine during this violent, chaotic, deeply unsettling time and my heart is heavy, tears reside under the surface with the lump that attempts to rise in my throat so often in these days. Talking to my Rwandan friend early this morning, listening to a tear-strained voice describe sickness, financial needs, house construction problems, graduation hinderances, and the tragic rape, pregnancy and possible marriage arrangement being forced upon a young teacher and friend, those tears spilled forth for yet other reasons. This appears to be that "time to cry" that Solomon speaks about. A time to cry with those who mourn. A son-in-law hears the news that the wife of his college roommate was killed in a late night car accident, my too-young daughter and her husband visit a funeral home on a Sunday afternoon when families are swimming and enjoying BBQ in many other pockets of our community. We have spent two out of the past four Saturday afternoons at Hill Country Cemetery, two Friday nights at funeral homes. Every day, the news is full of death and dying from hatred and revenge. Knowing people who live in these areas of the world brings the news closer in, harder to escape. Thousands of children are fleeing Honduras, El Salvador and Guatemala due to the violence there, coming across the border into Texas creating a humanitarian crisis. As a mother, do you risk your child being raped, trafficked or killed or do you risk their life by sending them through an escape route into America?
     In my corner of the world, we go for a refreshing dip in the river on these hot summer days. Listening to music at any local venue, enjoying good food in the company of good friends, we look around and declare "Life is good!" We celebrate the Fourth of July with small town parades and fireworks surrounded by those we cherish. Fears of bombs, missiles, attack, kidnapping and rape are far from our minds. Birthdays, weddings, babys to be born, anniversaries, moving into new homes, graduations, vacations, new jobs and promotions, retirement fill our calendars with celebrations. A new movie to watch, a bestseller to read, a concert to see, coffee shop dates and shopping sprees. Delight abounds with grandchildren, family gathered around, visitors from out of town or out of country. We watch a group of twelve bucks, with some does and fawns scattered amongst them, coming for water while we eat our dinner in front of the big window. They come often. Our view is really spectacular. Comfort abounds, satisfaction runs deep. Love surrounds.
     What to do with such a huge contrast. Gratitude running side by side with compassion, heartache, and sorrow. Wonder eclipsed by suffering. Pain swallowed up in contentment. Tears from sorrow, tears from laughter. The beauty and warmth of a fire leaving us with the smell of a campfire permeating our clothes and skin. Both. And.