Destruction and Life

I woke up this morning to two juxtaposing sights.

The first, as I walked to pour my coffee, was my spider plant that sits on my dining room table. It has two beautiful “baby plants” that are growing on it right now. I marvel at them, at life, at how God created life to reproduce in such a beautiful way. Many people these days don’t seem to know that you can actually grow a second plant from an original plant in this way. In a few weeks, those baby plants will get pots of their own. No need to go to the store and buy one. They can be given to others or they can replace the plants that I’ve managed to kill this month. It’s quite beautiful really, life continues and grows and reproduces, so long as it has the basic things needed– in this case, water, soil, light. Plants are quite simple really, their needs are basic. Somehow I still manage to kill quite a few, but the need of plants are still quite a bit simpler than needs of people.

The second thing I saw this morning was images of destruction all over the news. As I sit here there is a strong rain hitting the roof of the porch and it triggered a reminder that there is currently a hurricane hitting Louisiana. So, I checked the news to see how everyone fared. It doesn’t look good. So many images of destruction. And it isn’t just in Louisiana, although the images were concentrated there this morning. There is devastating destruction occurring in many places in the world– either at the hands of sickness, natural disasters, or at the hands of other humans. Crisis in Afghanistan. Wildfires in California. Political turmoil in Haiti. War in Ethiopia. Cancer in young people. Pandemic throughout the world. I could go on. And I don’t pretend to know or understand all of the details about any of these situations. But I do know that they bring pain and death. I see images or read stories about these things and I see grief, destruction, and pain.

We had a long, busy weekend and I was excited to relax last night with the kids and have a “movie night.” It was an uplifting and lovely way to end the week. We watched The Sound of Music for the first time with our children. Austin and I spent a lot of time filing in gaps in their historical knowledge. Who were the Nazi’s? Why are they trying to force Captain Von Trap to work for them? Why is their family having to leave their home? We were able to talk about how some people do very bad things and that it is right and honorable to stand up for what you believe and not follow such people. Even if it costs you everything. Captain Von Trap was prepared to die for what he knew was right. So much of me wants to protect my children from understanding just how evil and difficult the world can be. I want them to see the lovely and the beautiful. But the truth is that they did see the lovely and the beautiful through that movie. They saw a man stand up and say no to evil, when no one else was. They saw courage and determination and joy. Without the ugly part that I wanted to shield them from, they would have missed something. Something important.

As I sit here now, I don’t know how to bring any comfort to those who are hurting. I don’t know how to fix the world’s problems. I don’t have the answer for natural disasters or the complex issues in the Middle East. But if the last year and a half has taught me anything, it is this — I. AM. NOT. GOD. I do not have the ability to fix all of the issues that I see all around me and I also know my place in the bigger story (this is God’s story, not mine). I won’t be able to understand all of the details of the science behind vaccines and natural disasters and I’ll never completely understand the conflicts that rage all over the world. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t do our best to understand these things and to be knowledgeable about them. I’m just saying that I know enough to know that I don’t know everything, far from it in fact. And that knowledge of my limitations is grounding, it’s freeing, it helps to keep me within my own calling, it keeps me tied to what God has specifically called me to, in the here and now.

So what do we do as we see these images flood in and we are confronted with so much sadness and pain? As I prepare for my day– haircuts for me and the big girls, lots of school work, still potty training that two year old, and drafting curriculum for our mom’s ministry at church– I am praying. I am praying for the people hit by Hurricane Ida. I am praying for those caught in the middle of violence. I am praying for those working to bring an end to the pandemic and cancer. I pray that God would bring peace, healing, calm, and joy. I pray that His people would send aid and help in whatever way He is calling them to.

For me specifically today that will look like a donation to the Red Cross to aid in hurricane relief. For those of you who are able, that might mean going and giving blood this week–there is a critical need for blood right now. I’ll be talking with my children about the hurricane and we’ll be praying for those in its path. I’ll be checking in on a few people that I know are in need of extra encouragement right now. And I’ll be a listening ear as I interact with others today. My family will choose to serve in love, right where we are, doing the things that God has called us to today. Not ignoring the destruction and pain throughout the world, but not letting it over take us either. We will not spin our wheels with feelings of anger and anguish. We will serve, we will love, we will go, and we will do what we can with what we have. We will bring our five loaves and two fish and we will see how God wants to use them. Right here, right now. We can make a difference in the lives of those around us.

You might not be able to save the world today. You can’t stop the waters raging or the anger and violence all around us, but you can show God’s love to someone today. You can step outside of yourself and see someone else and meet their need. You can remember that you are not God, but that you get to do His good work. While pain, destruction, and evil rage all around, you can help to further the lovely and the beautiful right here and now. What will you do today to love another? Whether that’s a donation, giving blood, or just a neighbor that needs to know she’s loved with a cup of coffee. How will you further the lovely and the beautiful and pour out God’s love for his people today? I look at this picture of my plant and those tiny little reminders of life, and I’m thankful. You can be those sprouts of life to someone today. They might not be in Louisiana or in Afghanistan, but there is someone that could use a sprout of hope and love.