I got to church today quite early, and was visiting with a lovely friend for a few minutes. Another friend, unusually flustered, sat with us to ask if we’d heard the news.
This is the news: a family, who used to live in our neighborhood, went camping in a remote mountain area this weekend. One of their sons, age 10, somehow got separated from the family at 4.30 in the afternoon. By 9.30 this morning, after an evening and night of heavy rain, he had not yet been found, but his backpack had been located by searchers on horseback. There was no cell service where they were camping, and several counties worth of emergency crews and search and rescue teams were ready to help, including the super-fancy helicopter with heat-imaging technology – waiting only for the weather to clear.
My friends, devastated by the news, had tears in their eyes. I wondered what was wrong with me. Why was I not crying about this horrible, frightening, awful thing?
By a few minutes after 10.00, news arrived that the boy had been found, safe.
And then, the tears came. With the relief, the gratitude, and the release, I felt the horror of the possibilities. It was strange to find myself in a chapel full of joyful, happy people – and I was crying. Maybe for relief. Maybe for gratitude. But surely, somewhere in my heart, I had to know Little Man G was okay before I could have my cry.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m broken, that way. I don’t manage to cry at appropriate times, but I seem perfectly capable of weeping long after the time to cry has passed.
(6) Comments for this blog
I'm the same way. When my lil' bro went on his mission, the entire family was sobbing at the MTC. I was smiling and joking with him. However, that night after he'd long been snuggled in his little Mish bed, I broke down and wept for all I was worth.
I'm so grateful the little dude was found safe and sound. Tender Mercies, indeed. =]
I'm the same way. When my lil' bro went on his mission, the entire family was sobbing at the MTC. I was smiling and joking with him. However, that night after he'd long been snuggled in his little Mish bed, I broke down and wept for all I was worth.
I'm so grateful the little dude was found safe and sound. Tender Mercies, indeed. =]
Do you know that I stumbled across your blog? You never leave me a blog address and I had no idea there was this pool of Becca just sitting out there in the universe.
I'm excited for the book, you are such a fantastic writer.
Do you know that I stumbled across your blog? You never leave me a blog address and I had no idea there was this pool of Becca just sitting out there in the universe.
I'm excited for the book, you are such a fantastic writer.
I'm this way too. The only girl who didn't cry during testimony meeting at girls camp. I? Cried two days later.
So glad he was found safe!
I'm this way too. The only girl who didn't cry during testimony meeting at girls camp. I? Cried two days later.
So glad he was found safe!