Whenever this happens, it becomes clear to me that it is time to go to Maine. Unfortunately, we have 35 more days to endure before the glorious day when we arrive at Quantabacook. A friend in Maine replied when I sent him the above photograph, “It’s 75 with 40% humidity here.” He loves doing this to me.
But as I spent half my day sweating through my shirt whenever I got in the car before the AC finally kicked in, I thought of the family of the girl who went missing on the James River this past Sunday and what their day has been like. For the entire week they and their friends have been walking along the banks of the river, mile after mile searching for their daughter. In 98 degree heat and stifling humidity, they have trudged through the trees, bushes, underbrush for miles while rescue and recovery efforts on the water by local officials has been underway. We are told that every day that passes, the odds of finding anyone alive get slimmer. At this point, they are most likely searching for her remains. And yet, they soldier on in the heat, hoping against hope. I ask myself what I would do if I were them after so long and I realize that I would be doing the exact same thing. Losing a child, losing a 28 year old young woman full of potential and promise, her entire life of endless possibilities in front of her, sounds like among the worst of all human experiences. Pam and I know the family. Although we were not friends, we attended the same church for many years. They were talented musicians who played in the church orchestra. Their beautiful daughter is the same age as my nephew. I have followed the parent’s updates on Facebook with a mix of profound sadness and admiration at their spirit, determination and their amazing grace. I have stopped several times throughout the week to lift prayers for them, feeble as they were. I have detected no self pity in any of their updates, just faith in God for whatever happens and gratitude for all the support that has come from lifelong friends. I wonder if my faith would be as strong. I wonder if I could maintain their hopeful spirit, their trust in a loving God. I hope so…but I’m so grateful I have so far never had to find out.
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