Perhaps I should have been more tactful and given my full three minutes in quiet prayer for the broken families, broken homes, broken people in Sze Chuan, but more than two weeks have passed and life didn’t seem to stop at 512.
Then again, life shouldn’t always be downcast, even in the most delirious situations. In tumultous pain there’s always the yang side of it. That’s why, in the same footsteps that we tread in dilapidation we celebrate the joy for our survivors and dance for the heroes of our nation. More than ten thousands have died in Mother Nature’s wrath, many more permanently damaged for life and the rest traumatized beyond redemption. And the number of lives lost just keeps rolling in every other day as more people are reported missing.
But, as my father always says, crying does not help the situation. After you’ve cried and vented your feelings, it’s time to get off your lazy arse and get to work. In this instance, you don’t even have the time to cry. The clock goes tick-tock every second without fail or falter, and with every minute, more who were trying to hold on lets goes of their last thread of hope under the collapsed buildings. They just want to be rescued and we want to rescue them.
This short post is dedicated to the people in Sze Chuan, though I don’t think they will ever see this. Humans are humans, and we’ll get through this together, no matter what. Maybe I won’t, at least not personally, but people who matter will, and that’s all I need to know.
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