Three Little Boys

Three Little Boys

The quiet in the air these past few days was deafening.  The chill is back from the blast of cooler temps outside as well as within the hearts of many in our area.  You see, a community or two, or three is grieving.  Three little boys and their daddy left to go sailing upon the lake.  Easter weekend came, the new sailboat was within reach, and the excitement was just too much to wait any longer.  Dad was doing what dad’s all over the world do.  They have fun with their kids.

The excursion took a turn for the worst as the wind power was more than the man power. The colder temperatures in the water were too much to bear for the little ones who spilled out when the wind toppled the boat with water from the waves, and two lives were lost.  Now, communities grieve.  A daddy grieves, a mommy grieves, not to mention the grandparents, the cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends.  The lines are blurred as to where the pain stops because soon, each of the above has a friend, a neighbor, and an acquaintance who is feeling the searing pain of those in pain.

And then there are those who responded.  The first to receive the phone call, the first to arrive, the one who offered assistance because they were present when another received the call for help, and the community of grievers grows.  The pastors, those whom they fellowshipped with at church, the classmates, the teachers, and even the restaurant waitress who remembered the last time they all came in. 

It goes on…one connected to another, and another, and the town with the city limits soon realizes those lines drawn are all but invisible when it comes to the ebb and flow of pain, love, and loss.  One community becomes a part of another, and soon the human spirit connects and unifies us as one.  We want to scoop up the pain. We want to rewind the clock.  We want to all be out there where the accident happened, sacrifice what we were doing at the moment, and make the outcome different than what it was.  We want to cradle dad knowing full well that his days ahead will be heavy, and in the darkest hours we want to be there for a mother’s heart which breaks.

It is in these darkest hours, Lord, where you say that in our weakness, you are strong.  As the anger rails and the questions come, you alone love those pounding down your walls wanting answers to something that is beyond comprehension.  And still, you love deeply.  It is in the darkest hours you carry those who cannot even feel your presence.  Yet, grace abounds, and grace sustains, and you are our all in all.

When the darkness comes and the rocks cry out when we can no longer do so…we proclaim that even in this…yes…even in this…God is good.  He will carry when we can no longer do so.

His promises are true.  He is our ever present help in trouble.  Let us lean not unto our own understanding and somehow, as we pray to let this cup pass, we can do nothing but let him carry until it does.  He was there when they crucified our Lord.  He was there when they laid him in the tomb.  He was there when nothing within our human reasoning or comprehension can make sense of this fallen world in which we live. 

Yet, we read that even the angels weep at the separation from those whom we love here on earth.  And the community enfolding hearts, arms, and wings around those for comfort continues to grow.  Amen.