Have you ever lost a loved

one, and in the immediate aftermath hours, days, even weeks wondered how

the earth could keep spinning?

How could folks go on about

their business as usual while your world was at a standstill? Even your

tears seemed frozen in time and all the rest of the universe just continues

on its course.

Been there?

I'll never forget the scene

from Steel Magnolias where Sally Field's character, shortly after the

death of her daughter, pushes the swing with her granddaughter in it,

and states, "Life goes on," so matter-of-factly my blood almost

went cold. (I really get into my movies.)

I think that's a little bit

how I have felt over the past 24 to 36 hours, following the earthquakes

in El Salvador. If it doesn't touch us personally, we just go on about

our business, don't we?

I had my grandchildren over

to spend the night on Saturday night. We woke up to pancakes and bacon

and sausage. It was a glorious Sunday, partly cloudy skies, but mild temperatures.

In the afternoon, Daniel and I did some planning for spring planting,

and decided how we were going to plant a few hundred loblolly pines we

just purchased from the Georgia Forestry Service.

All this while several hundred

bodies were being uncovered after the landslides that were brought on

writing, 700-plus injured, and hundreds, perhaps thousands, still missing.

And life goes on.

See what I mean? Amidst all

the tragedy and devastation that takes place around the world every day

in some place or another, life goes on uninterrupted in some other place.

Am I saying it shouldn't? No,

of course not, it has to. It's just strange, that's all, and the whole

concept makes me wonder. I do a lot of wondering.

What kind of impact do you

think it would make if we all paused for a minute, even seconds, once

a day, to pray for others who are experiencing pain, misery, loss, even

total devastation?

When I get all strung out like

this about the animal kingdom and all of nature, Daniel reminds me it

is just the natural order of things. That concept is very hard for me

to accept in reference to wild animals and trees and plants and the like;

it is impossible for me to comfortably cope with when human beings become

part of the picture, like in fires and floods and earthquakes.

Oh, well, we have the Red Cross

and a multitude of other relief organizations and missionaries and "others"

who are out there, who care and help and meet the needs of those in great

need. Right?

Well, that's not what I'm talking

about when I suggest that we pray for others. Of course we should give

what we can in the way of money or anything else that will feed and clothe

those who are hungry and without covering. It is the word "comfort"

that haunts me. Have you ever heard "feed, clothe and comfort"

used together? Familiar, huh?

Indeed, it is the word comfort

that doesn't let go of me. So, just suppose that all of us, at least a

majority of the world's population, were willing to pray for those in

need of comfort. Suppose we petitioned God on behalf of brothers and sisters

all over the earth who know no peace amidst all the pain and suffering

they are forced to endure. What if we collectively sent our love and human

warmth to these people through prayer?

While I'm so caught up in this

almost impossible fantasy, let's take it a step further and imagine what

such a daily effort on the part of all who pray would do for those in

prison, for those in the entertainment industry, for our leaders around

the world. Suppose every hour, on the hour, we whispered prayers for specific

individuals or groups of individuals.

I have done it at red lights

for years. I watch the expressions of people in cars next to me or I may

focus on the face of one walking along the street and then I whisper a

prayer. Usually, I ask that God will guide that person into a full knowledge

of His great love for him or her. Somehow, I know the rest will fall into

place once an individual experiences knowing they are loved.

Sometimes, I don't make a lot

of sense, do I? But sometimes, I do... I wonder which one it is this time.