Day Thirty-Seven, After July 1, 2022
King 20:5 “…This is what the LORD, the God of your father David, says: I have heard your prayer and seen your tears; I will heal you.”
The hot wind whirled into town, spinning dust up into the dry heavens above Uvalde. No one heard the door slam on the black SUV, but a tall figure appeared next to it when the dust settled. He stood silently, taking in the scene.
The aftermath was over, the bodies of the littlest ones were accounted for, and the weeping began, the sound rising past the dust hovering above. He took off his sunshades and shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked upon the tragic scene.
Mothers cried loudly as they leaned on the shoulders of sobbing fathers. A young Anglo woman bowed, shedding silent tears as she blindly reached up to grasp the hand of an older Hispanic woman who clutched a rosary. A bone-tired middle-aged workman repeated the Lord’s prayer over and over as he gently stroked the top of his son’s head. A couple clasped each other, their embrace muffling their cries of anguish as stoic officials counted the numbers again one by one. The sorrow was thick, suffocating, smothering. It was death.
He smiled.
But then THEY showed up. Other people from every state, from all around the globe, came to Uvalde. They came to hug the necks of the grieving; they came to cry with the grandparents, uncles, and aunts; they came to hold the hands of the injured. Yes, they came to say prayers and bring food and cards and many, many flowers. They made crosses and necklaces. They sang sad songs, painted murals, performed heart-lifting ceremonies, and wrote poems of hope. They offered grace and comfort. They gave donations … and, even more importantly, they gave love. Lots and lots of love. And the people of Uvalde began to heal.
His smile disappeared. It was not meant to happen this way. Evil had been allowed to run loose, and it must reap its bushels of disillusionment, hopelessness, and unforgiveness. He cursed out loud, glaring up into the heavens.
But nothing terrible happened. Instead, the heavens opened up, thunder boomed, and the rain fell. He watched amazed as the people began to sing songs of joy as their tears mingled with the raindrops — their Los Angelitos had made it home. They were home!
Disgusted, he turned and kicked at the dust under his feet, causing it to spin again. Spin higher and higher until it blocked the sun. Then he laughed to himself as he counted upon his fingers.
What was that? Accusations? Hypocrisy? Insubordination? Concealment of truth? Lack of empathy? No trust? No faith? One by one, he counted, and the pillars that the community leaned upon began to shake from the strain. The air became thick with cursing and threats. Fingers were pointed at authorities, leaders, friends, and neighbors. Old wounds reopened. Tears shed could not be stopped, and they gave no comfort … no relief. The songs were forgotten as the flowers began to rot in the heat.
And THEY, the others, were forced to step back and watch the turmoil grow – helpless to stop the dissension.
And he smiled. Broadly. Yes. Yes, now his job was done.
He pushed his sunshades back upon his face. The black SUV started up, drowning out all sound. He quickly climbed in as the tires began to spin out and sling gravel like tiny heart-piercing arrows. He couldn’t resist rolling down the window and laughing as he drove off. One last sling.
The people looked about helplessly as the darkness and dust rolled in, strangling the last ray of sun, and causing confusion and pain in their hearts. Fear gripped them. Anger choked them. They broke into little groups, separate and apart, and forgot to stand together.
But then, in the quiet that remained after the dust settled, a little brown hand reached out to clasp a little white hand which clasped a little black hand which clasped a little yellow hand which clasped a little red hand. And, together the littlest ones held onto each other as they formed a circle around the people and began to sing.
“…red and yellow, black, brown, and white, they are precious in His sight, Jesus loves all the children of the world.” They sang it over and over as they danced around the people, reminding them of what was important. Reminding them that we are in this together. Reminding them that we do not grieve alone. Reminding them that God is still with us.
And then the sun came out … again.
#uvaldestrong is #uvaldetogether
Related
