the things that bring hope

     So I just spent a very long time going through all of my posts and labeling them. You could say I set this house in order and phew! it was on ordeal. If you scroll down to the bottom of this page, you should be able to see the fruits of my labor.  

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   I don't necessarily love to drive. If there are two kinds of people in life--you know, drivers and passengers--then I will sign my name happily right next to the passengers section. However, I am now sharing a car with a Texan and a Californian. Neither are used to or comfortable driving in the snow and since it has been snowing more days than not since we got to Detroit, this native Pennsylvanian is behind the wheel at all times.  I really don't mind all that much, though, considering that having access to a car on tour and yes, that means driving it as well, is a nice change of pace.   

  What I do mind is the state of the roads during a snow storm here. At times I was just driving on thick layers of snow and slipping all over the place. I felt like I would have done better navigating with a sled. We asked a dresser at the theater why the roads aren't better here and she told us that Detroit is broke; there's no money to plough the roads.

  Stupid economy. 

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   Here is a facebook status I recently read that truly upset me: "John Doe is so sick of hearing about that pilot and the river. Move on already, jeeeez." 

  

   Wow. I am sorry, but are miracles really so very boring? I mean, part of our job as humans is to relate to each other the very good, pure, and perfect things that can seem to so rarely happen on this earth; to marvel at them, remember them, and store them in our hearts. That is how the necessary element of hope is not only born, but grows. 

   It flourishes. 

   So yes, we will continue to be in awe of this miracle. We will see God's hand in it and rejoice with the people who not only said good-bye to their loved ones, but were also given the gift of saying hello to them once again, AFTER THEIR PILOT CRASH LANDED THEM IN THE HUDSON RIVER. Because those people could just have easily have been us. That is the great and beautiful crux of the human existence; our ability to see ourselves in each other's stories of heroism, miracles, pain, tragedy, and love is what keeps us close when all else threatens to tear us apart. And it is this compassion, this empathy, that stays the hand that would strike its neighbor, teaching it a better way, a healing touch. 

   So no, we are never going to get over this miracle. For it is miracles like these that give us hope as we sustain the next sad event; they are the bits of light we look for, yearn for, need. They are further proof of God among us. He landed that plane, kept all those people safe; surely he can keep us safe, he can keep me safe.  

  The psalmist said it well when he wrote, 

             I would have lost hope unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of God in the land of the living.

   Miracles like this are glimpses of just that--the goodness of God in the land of the living. And we will never grow tired of hearing about them, big or small.