Readability

Without Love

The words come fil­tered through dig­i­tal inkwells; cyber­space cries beg­ging to be heard over the daily din. A tire­less worker at keep­ing the music alive plac­ing her hus­band in hos­pice care, his bat­tle with can­cer reduced to weary sur­ren­der. A friend wait­ing for his mother to come out of surgery, her dia­betes demand­ing yet another ampu­ta­tion. A con­tem­po­rary Chris­t­ian music pio­neer hud­dled with her dementia-​laden mother in a friend’s apart­ment, pray­ing that the pan­icked repair work on a crum­bling spill­way holds so they will have a home to return to should the evac­u­a­tion order be lifted. At such time the Psalmist’s words burn with renewed meaning:

Deep calls to deep
in the roar of your water­falls;
all your waves and break­ers
have swept over me.

Out of pain, joy; out of loss, magic. My father passed away one morn­ing while tend­ing to the shrub­bery in front of his house. Before my mother joined him sev­eral years later, she unfail­ingly told of how that morn­ing, as her and my father’s parish priest gave him Last Rites, the largest and most beau­ti­ful but­ter­fly she saw in her life gen­tly alighted on my father, rested for a moment, then flew away. Coin­ci­dence? Per­haps. Per­haps also a sign of the promised new life through trans­for­ma­tion in Christ.

The world is replete with social media popoff pis­sants, fleck and spittle-​stained key­board wea­ri­ers (SWIDT) on both side of the polit­i­cal divide slav­ishly serv­ing this week’s web­site while self­ishly slough­ing off this lifetime’s mar­riage. As said before, their mantra is cry out­rage! and let slip the tweets of but­thurt. The watch­word of this gen­er­a­tion is peace, but there is naught but self-​promotion.

How long will we neglect what mat­ters in favor of triv­ial pur­suits? How long will vapid polit­i­cal prat­tle super­sede fun­da­men­tal car­ing and shar­ing? It is true that knowl­edge is power; infor­ma­tion is vital. We need to be informed and alert. We need even more to offer the out­stretched hand. With­out this, with­out love, we are noth­ing. And all we do is nothing.

https://youtu.be/pA9UXWPKctE

The words come filtered through digital inkwells; cyberspace cries begging to be heard over the daily din. A tireless worker at keeping the music alive placing her husband in hospice care, his battle with cancer reduced to weary surrender. A friend waiting for his mother to come out of surgery, her diabetes demanding yet another amputation. A contemporary Christian music pioneer huddled with her dementia-laden mother in a friend’s apartment, praying that the panicked repair work on a crumbling spillway holds so they will have a home to return to should the evacuation order be lifted. At such time the Psalmist’s words burn with renewed meaning:

Deep calls to deep
in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
have swept over me.

Out of pain, joy; out of loss, magic. My father passed away one morning while tending to the shrubbery in front of his house. Before my mother joined him several years later, she unfailingly told of how that morning, as her and my father’s parish priest gave him Last Rites, the largest and most beautiful butterfly she saw in her life gently alighted on my father, rested for a moment, then flew away. Coincidence? Perhaps. Perhaps also a sign of the promised new life through transformation in Christ.

The world is replete with social media popoff pissants, fleck and spittle-stained keyboard weariers (SWIDT) on both side of the political divide slavishly serving this week’s website while selfishly sloughing off this lifetime’s marriage. As said before, their mantra is cry outrage! and let slip the tweets of butthurt. The watchword of this generation is peace, but there is naught but self-promotion.

How long will we neglect what matters in favor of trivial pursuits? How long will vapid political prattle supersede fundamental caring and sharing? It is true that knowledge is power; information is vital. We need to be informed and alert. We need even more to offer the outstretched hand. Without this, without love, we are nothing. And all we do is nothing.