Cyclone

The few images of need coming out of Myanmar are powerful. We are all affected by them.

Along with the cyclonic destruction of homes, crumbled buildings, and bodies, come the tears of the living. Sometimes they come in sobs, sometimes in wails of disbelief. The old cry for the loss of memories, hoping for the strength to start again. The very young cry not fully understanding the new memory of loss.

There is worry from all, especially for and from the children for their security of a familiar bed or toy vanished with an ill wind that may have claimed 100-thousand lives. Parents do what they can to comfort the little ones, to reassure, but the eyes always mirror the fearful heart.

The stolen authority of dictatorship did little to warn its people that the cyclone was coming and it has done little to help the thousands in need. The world heaps shame upon the alleged authority as the world community tries to figure out way to help the innocent.

Right now, Myanmar or Burma as it used to be called is a country that screams, you can feel it, as victims search for their lives in the puzzle of rubble and find yesterday's peace is tomorrow's uncertainty.

As we hear the stories of those in need, as we become numbed by the statistics of loss, we cannot feel secure because we have normalcy, because we have shelter or we have food, or because it didn't happen here.

Instantaneous response to need defines true service. Despite the difficulties the victims of both political and nature's wrath must know they have not been forgotten by the collective healing spirit of what we call community...of what we call the humanity of humankind.