Over the past few days I'd been wondering what to blog about. In my mind I'd half formulated a wry and slightly self pitying post about how MAJOR electrical appliances in my home seem to be breaking down. In addition, how virtually every member of my family was heading off to America with the notable exception of me and my crew.
Oh yes, it was going to be AWESOME.
And then I got a phonecall about an hour ago.
One of THOSE phonecalls.
You know, the phonecall that flips the world upside down, shakes it around a bit and then spits on you.
One of those phonecalls where you don't really process the information and you start saying swearwords, even though you don't usually swear, because when it comes to the crunch, it's your feeble back-up because regular words are simply inadequate.
Because I am a firm believer in the fact that everyone should tell their own story, or at the very least I should get permission to tell their story, I can't say what the specific details are if you follow me on twitter though DM me
But it's about someone in my family that I adore and if it's scary stuff for me, then I can't imagine what it's like for them.
And so I sit here in shock, and worry, and confusion and maybe a dash of anger for good measure.
And I, who by nature am a do'er, can do nothing. Infinitely wiser and experienced hands must help here and somehow, and this sounds like a terrible thing to say. Especially so when I have an interview about what theology units to study next semester tomorrow, praying just seems like empty words.
And I wonder about the numerous times I've posted on blogs "praying for you" (and I have, I really have prayed) if the blogger has sat there and thought
"Yeah, great, that's really helped fill the aching/gaping/someone put a cannon through/ my heart."
Because it leads back to the question: "How could this happen?"
"How could this happen to them?"
And most of the time, I accept that sometimes, terrible things just, well they happen.
But not today.
Not right now.