A Letter To the Lost

on

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.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s