The noisy cicadas are quieting down. I heard my first cricket already. Scotch tape granny is safely in her new apartment, and thanks Jesus for it. The gentle one has her new place too, with enough room for her whole family to live together again. Kids are back in school, and the pool is scrubbed and folded up in its box. The two quiet kids actually played and laughed and talked. Quiet Guy is considering taking his chef exam next May, and told me all about how wonderful blue cheese tastes on crackers. And I'm heading out of Iwaki this afternoon. The season is changing.
New stories are crossing my path too. A woman whose family is now scattered in four places after this disaster. The teenager working at the convenience store next door, who looks unaffected by the disaster, but lost an entire family of friends in the tsunami. Their bodies were found three days later.
I will not be here to witness the rest of the story.
Everyone is saying the same thing: Remember me. Don't forget.
No problem there.
How do I even begin to process what I've seen this summer? Have I actually done anything? The privilege of watching Papa God work has made it an amazing journey. Is that the extent of it?
I went "backstage" into the relief goods area and told my friend that I can't see whether I really did anything this summer.
She summarized it in four words.
"Rachel, you were here."
Yes, I was.
Thank You, Papa, for bringing me here.
Yes, you were there. That matters. It's huge. Good for you, Rachel. We're all so proud of you.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your story and I know how wonderful you are .when I think about you, you are like fragrant of flower.I do believe your present deeply impact to who were there.
ReplyDeleteKeep in touch Rachel!
Donna