Here I was, on the last night of a wonderful family vacation. My three kids were safely tucked into their beds. My wife was getting things ready for the next morning. It was a happy evening in Levyland.
And I felt guilty that I should feel such peace when so many others on the other side of the planet felt nothing but pain. Or couldn’t feel anything at all.
While I watched my kids frolic on a beach, countless others were dying in a remarkably similar, faraway beachfront environment. While I took lots of colorful pictures, images of horror spread across the Internet and global television networks. We still have our kids, and our kids still have their parents. So many victims of the South Asian tsunami disaster cannot say the same.
As I have done so often with Noah’s older brother and sister, and as I have done so often with him since he first appeared on this planet, I watched his blanket rise and fall as he slept. I thought about the parents who wish they could do the same. What separates me from them is, in the end, not a whole lot.
So as I engage in the seemingly trivial act of writing this blog entry and wondering why such horrific things can happen to people who simply wanted to live, work, and play, I hope you’ll take a brief moment to think about how lucky we all are to simply be here. If you resolve to do nothing else in 2005, helping those around you in any way you can would be a great place to start.