This has nothing to do with car crashes.

I think the thing that stills me, that slows my breathing, and catches me most off guard is when someone doesn’t absorb another’s emotional break.

How can we drive past a collision and feel nothing? Yet, at the same time, how do we stop, snap a Facebook moment, and drive away? Just drive away. A moment captured. We feel enough horror to document the moment, enough shock to confess we “had to share,” but not enough empathy to stay. Not enough compassion to help.

We do that. We document and drive away. We see the emotional break, gather the details, absorb information, and move on.

It’s easier. Life is too… Fill in the blank.

I’m broken. I’m full of my life and so full, I’m overweight. I no longer need.

When did this happen? Each day. One slowly on top of another. Shedding the excess life is just like shedding gluttonous pounds.

We’re broken as a society. We’ve lost our sense of compassion. We’ve lost our unity, our oneness, our sense of bring me your poor. Parties be damned. How do we find ourselves?

Maybe it starts with outrage. Maybe it starts with concern. Maybe with common sense. It’s time. It starts with each of one of us.

Being the hands and feet when waters riseĀ 

Flood waters rose in Southeast Texas almost two weeks ago. If, like me, you’ve never stepped foot in a flooded home, then let me tell you what you don’t know. First, wear old, rubber shoes. You’re going to throw the disgusting things away when you leave. Second, I have one word for you–mask. As in, cover the nose and mouth. The smell combined with the dust will make you want to run away. Last, wear glasses,  even if, like me, all you have are sunglasses, or like my friend,Vanissa, reading glasses. Old, wet sheetrock dust burns your eyes. Wear some clothes you won’t mind depositing in the trash, and you’re all set.

I sound like I’m complaining, and I’ll be honest, my back is killing me. My feet hurt. My aches ache. But I’m smiling, and I can’t seem to quit. In the midst of a really tough couple of weeks, I got to see hope, faith, and love in action every single day.

There were disagreements, yes. There was out and out arguing, yes. There was worry-there still is. There was fear-there still is. You don’t lose everything you’ve ever worked for, get some help, and wake up the next day with all the world right again. We have close friends who need homes. We have family members who need cars. People in our towns are being fed and clothed through donations. Just because we spent a week, a day, or a few hours helping, doesn’t mean the work is done.

This storm, this time, many of us go back to work tomorrow. Our days return to a routine. And for so many more in our community, they also return to work or school tomorrow. But after, they go back to a temporary bed and a home in need of repair. 

We can’t stop. We’re tired, but they’re more tired. So, be ready. Do the hard thing.

Preaching to myself. 

Go. Just show up. Be the hands and feet of Jesus.