When Words Fail
Sometimes you realize that our language does not have the ability to convey fully the things we wish to express.
The horror.
The anguish of people losing everything.
The anger at the looters who are more interested in their own personal gain.
The sadness that people like the looters even exist.
The terror that mothers must have felt hanging on to their children as flood waters rose.
The fear in not being able to find your loved ones.
The realization that the dead bodies they keep talking about are someone's mother, father, son, daughter, friend... more than a body, a person who will be missed.
The utter disbelief that people can loot a children's hospital and shoot at rescue workers.
The feeling of helplessness.
The miraculous recoveries that are too few.
The acts of heroism you cling to, hoping that there really are more good people than evil ones in this world.
The hope that your faith in humankind, in God, in something will be restored.
The need to hug your babies a little tighter.
The sadness that threads through the day and catches in your throat.
Being thankful it isn't you and hating yourself for even thinking it.
There aren't words to encompass all of it. There simply aren't words.
The horror.
The anguish of people losing everything.
The anger at the looters who are more interested in their own personal gain.
The sadness that people like the looters even exist.
The terror that mothers must have felt hanging on to their children as flood waters rose.
The fear in not being able to find your loved ones.
The realization that the dead bodies they keep talking about are someone's mother, father, son, daughter, friend... more than a body, a person who will be missed.
The utter disbelief that people can loot a children's hospital and shoot at rescue workers.
The feeling of helplessness.
The miraculous recoveries that are too few.
The acts of heroism you cling to, hoping that there really are more good people than evil ones in this world.
The hope that your faith in humankind, in God, in something will be restored.
The need to hug your babies a little tighter.
The sadness that threads through the day and catches in your throat.
Being thankful it isn't you and hating yourself for even thinking it.
There aren't words to encompass all of it. There simply aren't words.
11 Comments:
Well put. I was watching the news the other night and holding Sophia and just didn't want to put her to bed - I wanted to hold her where I could protect her from everything.
So scary and so sad, Chris. Last night I just sat and stared at the television screen in horror and cried.
I think everyone feels those moments of being grateful it wasn't them, as awful as it sounds. This definitely makes me reconsider my flippant attitude about storms in the Northeast.
Good post Chris. I feel guilty, just going to work and going about my daily business, when these people have lost their families, job, home, and just everything.
I agree with you and Iwant to add I'm in Houston where they are busing all the people and the emotions are so raw right now that something as simple as asking someone to move there camp to the other side of the road to make room for rescue workers is causing knock down drag out fights...And where trying to help!!! Devastation of this magnitude blinds peoples good judgement.
I totally agree. I can only watch the news in small doses because it is so intense. I had to post about it too. Check it out. I shared a story that really impacted me. Thanks for the thoughts.
I posted about Katrina today in my blog, too. There are so many thoughts and emotions about this swirling around in my mind and heart that I needed to try and write about them. But the words I posted seem so inadequate and fail to encompass what I feel and think.
What has/is happening there is just unimaginable. Words are hard to find to describe the feelings that I have. People are desperate and they need help.
Well said Darlin'. Well and wonderfully said.
It is so hard to wrap my mind around.
It is unreal. I am so full of sorrow.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes. Very eloquent, Chris. I've been feeling all that and more. You are so correct, there are just no adequate words, are there? Thank you.
Hey Chris,
I've been looking at your site for about 30 minutes now. I just found it and I'm in awe of the fact that you have 7 beautiful children, a great house, and you are so ORGANIZED!! WOW is all I can say. I commented on this post because it was one that especially caught my attention. I live in Louisiana and started blogging shortly before Katrina hit. I'll be back to the big yellow house!
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