Smoke rises into the moonlight from the Gonzaga fire.
Copyright © 2006 Barry G. Moses.
My sister and I both posted photographs from the Gonzaga fire, and decided to return last night for a different perspective of the destruction. She published several excellent shots yesterday which you can view here. I had some trouble getting these pictures online (most likely due to server difficulties), but I leave you with one illustration of the loneliness I felt from seeing the smoldering debris. There were no human casualties, but I can't escape a feeling of deep sadness as I see the smoke drifting into the wind under a moonlit sky. Perhaps the fallen building evokes a subconscious undercurrent of archtypal memory associated with loss and the end of times.
Sadly, I'm no stranger to bereavement. More than once I survived the collapse of everything I hold dear. More than once my world fell to pieces; through my parents' divorce, physical violence, two house fires, my father's death, my aunt's murder, and the loss of my two foster sons. Even more profound than the collection of traumatic events in my life is the loss of childhood innocence and beauty. I think perhaps the mere sight of burning buildings draws upon deep memories of losing myself.
And yet I have to believe God gave me this vision to bring healing, and not to stir up painful memories of events I can scarcely change. Through the memory of everything I lost, I see a new vision of what can be again through God's mercy and grace. It's a great irony; the Spirit of Creation brings destruction, and makes all things new. On the ruins of my former self, I am re-made, stronger and brighter than ever before.
Sadly, I'm no stranger to bereavement. More than once I survived the collapse of everything I hold dear. More than once my world fell to pieces; through my parents' divorce, physical violence, two house fires, my father's death, my aunt's murder, and the loss of my two foster sons. Even more profound than the collection of traumatic events in my life is the loss of childhood innocence and beauty. I think perhaps the mere sight of burning buildings draws upon deep memories of losing myself.
And yet I have to believe God gave me this vision to bring healing, and not to stir up painful memories of events I can scarcely change. Through the memory of everything I lost, I see a new vision of what can be again through God's mercy and grace. It's a great irony; the Spirit of Creation brings destruction, and makes all things new. On the ruins of my former self, I am re-made, stronger and brighter than ever before.
This picutre is almost whimsical, I really like it.
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