It is late, or early, and I am getting ready to go to bed but I just felt like writing a blog. Today at about 5 oclock my roomate and myself decided to go help search for Camille Cleverly. We went to a neighborhood just south of Seven Peaks and knocked on some doors and asked the residents if they had seen any strange behavior from their neighbors and if they would search their property for anything out of the ordinary. Most people were very willing and sympathetic to the situation. What a terrible situation? It is getting to the point that one can only start to assume the worst. As I was knocking on doors my mind and heart turned to Camille's mother and what she must be feeling right now. I can not imagine. It got to the point where I felt like we must do anything and everything we can to help her.
However, after about 2 hours of knocking on doors and searching through a suspicious field I found myself battling inside of my head. One part of me felt like "I have done my part, I want to get back to what I was doing." The other half of my brain was asking the deep and profound question, "what exactly is my part here?" Am I done when I am satisfied? Is this over when she is found? Or when the abductor is found and punished? When is my part done? Obviously, there is a limit to what I can add in aiding Camille. Can I or should I ever be satisfied with what I've done? Especially when the problem continues to exist.
When does someone else's problem become mine? There is obviously not a right answer to that question. When is my part done? Or should it ever be done? I don't know. There are so many problems and people that are needy. No one person could possibly take responsibility for all of it. The main issue for most of us would be time and awareness. Often, more than we think, those who need something that we could provide are standing right in front of us and we don't even know it.
I want to solve the world's problems. I want to take suffering away. I want people to laugh instead of cry, I want there to be educated and self motivated individuals in place of demoralized poverty stricken homeless men and women. I wish I could take it all away. What is my part?
I stand in awe of Jesus Christ. He did suffer all the bad and pain the world can dish out. He understands the feelings that of mother with a daughter that is missing. He know the thoughts of the seemingly thoughtless homeless man. He feels the pain of the lonely widow, the devistated mother, the angry man. All of this weighed and continues to weigh on his heart and mind. Why doesn't he stop it? Why not just heal the wounded heart? There must be some kind of purpose behind the suffering. There must be a reason for the crying. I simply just can't understand what it is. But perhaps that is my part. Faith in Jesus Christ. Trust in the His atonement and His teachings. There is a path to freedom from sin. There is an oasis of peace right in the middle of the desert of pain, sin, and heartache. I believe in the promises of Jesus Christ. I believe in the resurrection. I believe in the covenants I have made with him and I believe that He can deliver fully the blessing He has promised. I suppose that is my part, faith in every footstep. What else is there to do?
