“Yesterday, December 7, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan….”
Of course, these are the words of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the day after the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and plunged the U.S. into World War II. But there are other dates that will “live in infamy”—some newly added.
April 27, 2014, in Mayflower, Arkansas. April 28, 2014, in Tupelo, Mississippi.
Like December 7, 1941, some dates are national dates—October 29, 1929. November 22, 1963. September 11, 2001.
But some dates belong to a particular region or state. Some are etched in the collective memory of a community. I had several specific dates and towns in this paragraph—but I have just deleted them out of reverence for those communities. The dates and events are private pain and holy ground.
Some dates “live in infamy” closer to home. Family dates. The day Daddy died. The day of the accident. The day the military chaplain showed up on our doorstep. The night the house burned.
We all have our dates that will “live in infamy.” What strikes me, is how we live through them—how we survive. For a while, it may be all we can do just to breath in and out, but then we begin to regroup and find our way back to life again. True, it is a different life. But new life comes—and with it, love and laughter and purpose and gratitude.
We are the Itsy bitsy spider that…
“…crawled up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out. Out came the sun and dried up all the rain, and the itsy bitsy spider crawled up the spout again.”
Storms have once again wreaked havoc across the Southeast. The aftermath is overwhelming, and some do not see how they can possibly recover. But they will, and somehow, by the grace of God, they will find their way back up that waterspout. And the rest of us will help—with our dollars and our work gloves and our friend-indeed-ship, and our prayers.