The End of the World

The other night I experienced a rare and sudden seizure of rage and anger. I didn’t stop to think about where it came from, what was I mad about, or what would be the consequences of my emotions. I just yelled – loud. I slammed doors and then I cried – hard. For a split second, I was surprised by the flaring pain in my chest and then I turned and raged some more and cried some more.

It did not feel good. I did not feel better.
But it was not the end of the world either.

I think I was always afraid that if I ever got really mad, it would be so dire and consequences so great that I could bring on the end of the world. (there’s a little arrogance for ya.)

And then I looked around – and it was the end of the world! The stock market plummeted and people lost their jobs; the earth quaked, crops failed, marriages failed and families fell apart; loved-ones died; whole families were wiped out in car accidents and plane crashes, marketplace bombings, coups and riots, floods and tsunamis.

Prophets and seers are pretty safe in their predictions, because for someone, somewhere, everyday, all the time - the world is always ending.

...and it's NOT my fault. And just because I don’t have an occasional dramatic, what we call a “scenery-chewing” tantrum, I can’t save the world, either.

But in the morning, the world is reborn. I am reborn, to go on – be kind and thoughtful; be hopeful and generous; be faithful and truthful.

God is with us; we are not alone. Thanks be to God.