A Letter To the Lost


I think about you as we walk. Sometimes you don’t even seem real.

During others, my heart hurts for you. For your families. For your loved ones.

I wonder what happened. My mind creates the scenarios. I wonder how scared you are – or were. If it’s been a bit and your recovery is our objective, I wonder if you suffered. I wonder what went through your mind & what you felt in your heart. I wonder what we can do to help others from a similar fate.

The callouts come. We respond. We show up and go where we’re told. Sometimes your safe at home and nobody knew. We feel relief & frustration instantly & simultaneously. But most importantly, you’re safe.

As the mission gets going, it’s oddly similar to going on a hike with some friends. We plan, look at maps, grab gear, make sure we’re set for whatever may happen.

We often start out chatty. We just hike. We are eyes & muscle in the woods. We come to save, to help healing begin.

Then as we continue deeper into the thick overgrowth, we quiet. The conversations wane and I find myself left contemplating where we are and how fleeting life can be. We’re mission focused. In these moments of quiet reflection, what we do all makes sense.

As the hours pass and the miles pile on, we persevere. We don’t always enjoy the hiking, but we keep hiking. We do what we would want to be done for us, for our families, our friends.

We do what we train for. We do what we’re called to do. Sometimes we hike to save. Other times we search for closure for your loved ones. Sometimes it’s joyous; sometimes it’s heavy. We wear it all. And continue on.

Orange just hikes.


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