The Weight of It All

When I was a cheerleader in high school, our coach--who was trying to either maintain or restore our image as model citizens--would not let us say something 'sucks'.  We always had to say it 'inhales profusely'.  Fifteen years later, that is still my go-to phrase when something goes badly (thanks, Mrs. Sanders).  Well, I am just going to say it, sometimes life pretty much inhales . . .

Don't get me wrong.  My life isn't really all that bad. It's actually quite pleasant. I had a beautiful childhood; I am happily married to a man much nicer than me; I have two seemingly well-adjusted, healthy children; we have jobs we thoroughly enjoy most of the time; we have a wonderful church family; and we can go out and buy our needs and often our wants.  Minus the white picket fence--which we have replaced with a well-maintained greenbelt--all is well in the microcosm of life that is the Bell home.

But, this week reminds me that all is not well in the world. All is not even well in my neighborhood.  Parents must mourn children lost unexpectedly.  Students must deal with sickness, divorce, bullying, failure.  Those on the East Coast must find a way to rebuild their drenched, wrecked homes.  And, the country that is home to our third child must take the brunt of yet another violent civil war.  Really, even when things are going well in our own home, not a day goes by that we don't hear of someone's life, somewhere else, spiraling out of control. 

Honestly, this week has left me a bit disheartened. I really don't understand why 60,000 people signed a petition for Texas to secede from the Union and only 800 signed a petition for the United States to use nothing but its diplomatic power to speak against a band of rebels terrorizing an entire country.  I really don't understand why the news covers Obama shopping with his daughters but doesn't talk about the slaughter that is going on in the eastern Congo.  When I see another dog wedding or "Best Toys in 2012" segment, I just want to scream, "Really? Children are dying.  Families are being torn apart. People are starving."  But, in my frustration, I realize something else, too . . . 

There are times when the chaos is so close to us that we have no choice but to act, to feel outrage for those suffering.  But, when it is removed, when we aren't personally involved, we often just have to move on.  And, I get it.  I have done it with Hurricane Sandy. I have done it with Libya, and Egypt, and Israel.  I have done it with the Angel Tree, I have done it with that button I have to push to help homeless animals at Petsmart, I have done it with the lame man and the unborn.

Why?  Because, honestly, I can't handle the overwhelming weight of it all. Globally, I don't know what difference it will make.   Personally, I don't know what to say, I don't know how to give, I don't even know sometimes what to pray for.   And, if I prayed for everything bad thing that I heard happening in the world and in my neighborhood, I would never get off my knees.   

Ah, and there it is. Even in my typing, I realize it.  On my knees. . . .where I am reminded of my Savior, who gave up His life for the world He so loved.  Who came to this Earth for one reason, to suffer so that we would not have to bear the weight of sin forever.  And, honestly, that is the only place where I can find hope. When it is personal--when I am struggling with anxiety and frustration and fear--I cling to the cross.  And, really, that is where the beauty of suffering lies: it leaves us with nothing but our Savior and the recognition that, in all things, He is enough.