Out of the rubble

It could all be gone. Just. Like. That.

My best friend called Tuesday evening. She started with, "Everyone's okay, but..." You know then that the remainder of the conversation isn't going to be filled with rainbows and dancing leprechauns.

She continued to tell me that her older sister's house had burned down in the middle of the night. The fire started due to faulty wiring in their old farmhouse in Albion, in a room in the front of the house, in a lamp that wasn't even on. Her husband, two little boys ages 7 and 5, and 4 month old daughter, exited via a second staircase, fighting their way through smoke.

Although the firefighters were there within minutes, much of their four-bedroom home is lost, consumed by the fire or damaged by smoke. Now the family I have come to think of as my own are left with rebuilding their lives from scratch.

As my best friend describes what the house looks like now, it is difficult to imagine the cute little country home I have visited frequently since high school, in ruins. It was a home with a door always open for family and friends.

Antique heirlooms and old family photos lined the walls of the house. My favorite aspect of the house was the saying over the stove, "Thank God for dirty dishes; they have a tale to tell. While others may go hungry, We're eating very well. With home, health and happiness, I shouldn't want to fuss; By the stack of evidence, God's been very good to us."

Theirs' isn't the loss of a family member, but it is still a loss. Things can easily be replaced, but the memories cannot.

My friend's sister and her husband are both nurses and they are actively involved in their local church. There's nothing anyone can really do except offer them support.

When bad things happen to good people it tests our faith and trust in the world, regardless of our religious or spiritual faith. It challenges the basic idea that good things should happen to good people.

It is a theme that exists within the very core of human life, and dates back to the beginning of time. There is a story in the Old Testament, about a man named Job who is blessed with wealth and a healthy family. Despite abiding by the moral laws, one day he loses everything that brings him happiness.

Job tells his friends who come to comfort him, "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away." His loss is meant to test Job's faith. The story isn't about justice and fairness in life - evil is not rationalized within the text - but about dealing with immense suffering.

We all experience some sort of loss. We all carry pain. We all have "that really sucks" situations. Our stories are all the same: A failed relationship. Feuding families. A family member with a terminal illness. Disappointment at work. An unrealized dream.

Circumstances like these change our fundamental belief in the fairness of life. We feel out of control, and as if the world is out to get us. They leave us asking ourselves, "Why me?"

Maybe we're too optimistic. As Americans with everything at our fingertips we don't know what real adversity is. We're an idealistic society, with dreams that everything will be just as we imagine. Perfect job. Perfect family. Perfect house.

Too often, we don't put things in perspective. We're not living in a country where the daily threat of an attack is always imminent, or where we could be killed for our beliefs. We are relatively free to live and think as we chose.

It is when we are faced with personal tragedy, the kind that comes once or twice in a lifetime, that those simple existential questions come sneaking back on us - whether or not we're living our lives the right way.

How do we deal with such personal tragedies? How do we answer the questions that not even religion always has the answers for? Questions even the most spiritual have to reevaluate from time to time.

Such misfortunes call for resilience. Making the best of a situation, and having the courage to keep going and put back together that which fell apart.

Control what you can, and accept what you can't. Offer a helping hand whenever it is needed, because you never know when you will be in need of one as well.

If anything, trials can only make us stronger and wiser in the end. Out of the rubble can only come hope.