For most of us, whose lot is to share life with computers, news is the first item that pops out to the screen. It is a rare occasion that the accompanying image is not that of a shootout – at a mall, at school, at a remote coffee place, a parking lot. Complete strangers kill other complete strangers – and glorify in it. Day in and day out.
Next comes an image – and some information – of a segment of a bombed city, always with a lonely child walking among the desolation of its ruins. Russia’s involvement was supposed to put an end to Syria’s misery – well, it seems to be doing just the opposite.
Right after, moving to catch your wandering eye, a short video would come and go – over and over again. An inflatable boat full of people who risk their lives to reach the happy land where most of the shoot-outs take place is bobbing at a sandy shore. A body is carried.
“Devil is doing well these days” you think and get on with your work.
Somewhat later, you get to the watering hole, called Tim Hortons, to get your morning coffee fix and a friend meets you there. The line is long, so you ask him “what’s the news?”. You find out that the friend is in the middle of divorce – 18 years of life down the drain. “How’s your daughter taking it all?” I ask. “You can imagine” he says and becomes silent. You look at your friend and you still can remember him on his wedding day… both of them so happy, full of hope. Prayers, solemn Mass, family. There was the splendor of the dress of the bride, the mass of flowers, the joy of music – and the solemn blessing of the priest.. Two years later came the child, a sweet little girl and they were singing her songs together..
Then a black hole began to appear –
Yes, “devil is doing exceptionally well these days”, you think and cannot get back to work again.
As coffee is getting cold, you are hunted by misery in the eyes of your friend, and pain in the eyes of his daughter, now a teen who will enter her adulthood wounded and hurt and will never trust anyone again.
‘How long, O Lord? I cry for help
but you do not listen!
I cry out to you, “Violence!”
but you do not intervene.
Why do you let me see ruin;
why must I look at misery?’
“Have patience” whispers your guardian angel “what you see is not the last word of God”.
For the vision still has its time,
presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint;
if it delays, wait for it,
Sometimes even the very waiting becomes a heroic act of faith.
Can it become a mustard seed? Will the mustard seed grow, if watered with tears?