A Hs.com friend who has family in China has recently responded in regards to the recent earthquake disaster:
"There are times when we are faced with certain disasters, even our maturing image of God could be shaken a bit, and whether we will remain to love God, depends on whether we still believe God is good, despite our feeling. An earthquake of Richter 7.8 may only appear to be a number; and the buildings collapsed are certainly a terrible scene to look at; sometimes, even the number of casualties and the number of those killed in the earthquake could become merely a statistic, if our hearts are desensitized enough.
When there are no more tears to shed, and the vocal cords are too tired to let out one more cry, what is left, is only a silent groan, heavy, because it bears all the pain of losing their precious beloved. We know we are in a war zone, and despite all the unspeakable pains caused by the horrendous disasters, God is infinitely good. Yet, will those who have lost their children, parents, spouse have the energy to hear such explanations and to reason it out? Their beloved is gone, that is what they know. Our compassion is a good thing, but it often brings us distress, because we suffer when we see even strangers suffer and we would want to turn away our eyes from those tragedies--it's too much." The author is right, despite natural disasters,God is infinitely good. What we see transpiring be it fires, flood or earthquake -is not by God's punishing hand but rather the distinctive trademarks of a fallen world. "Indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord watches over you-the Lord is your shade at you right hand. " Psalm 121:4,5



Lori had planned a birthday party for her brother. She invited her parents and siblings. Her brother was traveling from another state and would arrive later than everyone else. As Lori and her sister Kelli decorated for the party, they began to argue. The issue was silly in retrospect, but at the time it got heated. As they raised their voices, their father entered the fray, taking the side of Lori's sister.
About forty years ago I went on a long hike, through hills absolutely unknown to tourists, in that very old region where the Alps penetrate into Provence. This region is bounded to the south-east and south by the middle course of the Durance, between Sisteron and Mirabeau; to the north by the upper course of the Drôme, from its source down to Die; to the west by the plains of Comtat Venaissin and the outskirts of Mont Ventoux. It includes all the northern part of the Département of Basses-Alpes, the south of Drôme and a little enclave of Vaucluse...
For a few years, I was able to pray regularly with a group of nuns who lived in North Minneapolis, and who served the needs of this inner city neighborhood. One of their rituals was called "Windsock Time." When the nuns mounted a colorful windsock on their porch, it told the children in the neighborhood that it was Windsock Time. This time included games, arts and crafts, story reading and a snack. One time, while we were playing a game in the front yard of the monastery, six police cars, with sirens blasting, came speeding into the neighborhood. We all stopped our play briefly to observe, but went right back to playing – it was just another drug bust in the inner city...

