Coping, Together in Faith and Love

I recently saw a news broadcaster speaking about how small neighborhood militias were forming on the Eastern Seaboard, after the Storm, until help could arrive and it reminded me of my own experience with natural disasters.

When I was still in high school the Northridge Quake, as it was called, a wopping 7.2 if I recall... I was told by my Dad that if things got worse, that we would be stationing on the roof of the house, rifles with scopes, watching the neighborhood and protecting our neighbors. As it was we had unlocked the cabinet and loaded a few of the weapons and were listening to the radio intently for local dispatches. Serve and protect. I learned the meaning of this during the rolling aftershocks as we drove toward town, passing flooded intersections from broken water mains and mobile home parks recently caught ablaze by their now rocket propelled propane tanks. Walls had come down and houses shifted off their foundations. Our eyes could not look away from the dark and empty windows of grocery stores, people still streaming out with essentials in their hands. We drank the boiled water from our swimming pool, one of the few on our block. It had lost a few hundred gallons from the initial shock. FEMA came two weeks too late with their beer cans full of water and by that time neighbors had banded together and holed up for the long haul, not knowing how long it would be before help arrived. We heard the early news. A bike-cop had driven off the free-standing chunk of overpass that was left. A couple of cars and a diesel big rig were stranded atop which eventually had to be airlifted by helicopter. A three story apartment building near the epicenter of the quake was now a pile of rubble. This included those who had been asleep during the early hours and had not made it out in time. Cracks, some of them many feet wide, stretched across the roads as if to defy our latest accomplishments in transportation.

With all the recent chaos, looting and confusion of the superstorm I couldn't help but watch as overall society fell, and local neighborhoods became tribal villages.

How grateful I am for having experienced my own natural disaster. It has given me perspective. I am grateful for a father who taught me how to survive on next to nothing. Grateful that we lived through that horrible earthquake. Saddened by the memory of those who did not. The awful and inescapable consequences of natural disasters make one question the meaning of life. Why did God let this happen? The answer is never simple. People have lost their homes and their loved ones. Does God care? In times like these our faith that the Lord watched over us, protected us and only allowed for minimal damage, is tested. It is important to remember that he faced his own suffering when he walked the earth. The world rose up against Him in a violent tide of zealotry and hatred. His body was broken under the weight of the sins of the world with each blow which was dealt by the soldiers. God does not wish us to suffer, but hopes with faith in us that we will call out to Him in times when we truly need Him. Natural disasters are normal phenomena in this world. How we decide to respond to these occurrences is up to us. Did we care for our neighbor? Did we feed, clothe or give rest to someone in need? This is what is important. Seeing those neighbors band together gave me hope that our society, the people I share this beautiful country with, can transcend the differences we have. Mankind's natural propensity to love has not been completely lost and so, maybe our God will suffer us a little longer with His mercy. Glory to God for all things!