If I could explain my emotions today, I would lack for words. Here is an attempt, an immature, inexperienced, overflowing with discovery and tears, attempt to tell you about the tremble in my bones, in my blood, and in my soul.
I have discovered there are no such things as 'bad' and 'good' days. There are simply, Mondays through Sundays, minutes that cede to hours, and hours which morph into days.
This Wednesday could be comparable to a cup; which has been filled to the brim, and which I've been emptying over and over, so it doesn't overflow. I wake up with the news of yet another aftershock, whose ripples were felt in Haiti.
Soon after, my mother tells me they have found a new born, under the rubble, still alive seven days after the initial earthquake.
Then, I learn my ex lover's father was injured today; something fell on his back and he can no longer move his legs.
I cannot help but feel this intense indignation, rising in my chest, an acute sadness, and I start crying because I know how much his father means to him. Also, I know that he has three little girls who look up to their daddy, that medical assistance is lacking, and I know, this must be eating up my ex. I know, if my father was hurt and I couldn't help him, I would be crippled by sorrow and anger.
But I cannot stop thinking about that 22 day old baby who survived, I cannot help but feel grateful and ecstatic, I am sure this must be a miracle. Yet...
What about all the children who did die? What about all the people, who clung to life days after the earthquake, praying to be rescued, only to succumb to their wounds? What about them? Where was God for them? Where was he? Where is God when we suffer, when we need him to keep us alive?Today, I felt like God took a vacation. I was outraged; I didn't blame you for the first earthquake, but how dare you, how dare you, do this again? Wasn't one more than enough? Aren't these people suffering enough? How can you? Why do we praise you, if you cannot even keep us safe?
Then, I met with a classmate, and we discussed life, the situation in Haiti, the spiritual beliefs that keep deepening and morphing, the compassion and connection we have towards others. Soon after, we attended a theater play (with our class) about a man, who was so tortured by guilt and the past, he ended up losing his mind and living in the streets. I cried some more; the story line was splendid, but the actors were even better. On our way back home, we discussed the underlying themes and I came to a conclusion;
God is balance. By giving us free will, He has also let go of the responsibility. Similarly, a father or a mother will grant their adult child autonomy; they will assist the child in the dire times, but they will let him forge his own path. God isn't evil nor good, he isn't perfect nor all powerful. Perhaps, once he was, but he is no longer. Free will was his ultimate sacrifice; he has given up his power so that we can have ours.
I am not mad, I am not sad, but I do feel less secure. There had always been a comfort in seeing things in categories such as 'bad' and 'good', 'wrong' and 'right'. But most things cannot fit in the boxes we invent. We are not without flaws, and neither are our visions.
My Morning Routine
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