Why?

When bad things happen, everyone wants to know "why?". "Why me? Why them? Why here? Why now? Why this?" It's an element of the human condition to feel that we deserve answers, immediate and in their entirety. We want to snap our fingers and for it all to be laid out in front of us, panel by panel, like a cosmic comic strip.

And, we all know that there are some people who believe they know the truth when unfortunate things happen to large groups of people. They use their respective religions or academia to explain tragedy. Societies hold their breath and await learned figures to share their wisdom...as if what they say will provide relief for the world.

"Oh, okay! Now I feel better. Now I can turn off the news and sleep well tonight on my soft PosturPedic because SOMEONE has made sense of all this madness. I'm so freaking glad that MY life can get back to normal...finally."

The thing about that is, the conjured explanations don't ever benefit the people who are directly involved in the situation. When people have experienced hurt, loss, death, and devastation, no religious or logical answer can serve as a bandaid. Telling an entire culture of people that fate chose them or, even worse, that God chose them for a particular hardship because of a history of sin, poverty, or lack of ambition isn't going to propel them into a place of peace.

My thoughts on widespread suffering is that the only answers to "Why" are revealed in individual lives. In time wounds begin to heal and the puzzle pieces of our pain (regardless of their extent) begin to fit together into something that makes sense to us.....until we can stand back and focus on a complete picture. Sometimes the picture that is formed can be seen by us only because it is beauty far too personal for others to understand.

While this is what I believe...what I desperately hope to be true about life, I would never say to a stranger in the midst of their intense suffering..."One day you'll know why this happened."

There's no way I could look into the eyes of an 80 year-old woman, lying on a cot in a shelter, with my tears pouring over her age-spotted hands, that the reason for her role in a living nightmare will be revealed to her just around the corner. As she pulled out photographs of her great grandchildren from an upholstered bag with a worn leather handle (where the remainder of her belongings now reside), I found myself completely unable to offer her any reassurance. While I knew that what she needed was strength, all I could do was weep as I kneeled beside a soul who looked eerily like my grandmother. I couldn't have felt weaker and more ashamed in that moment. I told her I loved her. I meant it. That, and the willingness to listen, was all I had to give. I sat with her until she fell asleep, and prayed that her questions of "why" will be revealed to her.

I can see us all.....everyone single one of us....at the end of our journeys....with a stack of flawlessly assembled puzzles under our arms. Not a single piece is missing from any of them.