A Slow Tragedy

This morning was like most winter mornings in Brownsville: a cool winter air, overcast skies and quiet save the song of the birds. It was pleasant as I spent a few minutes outside with my dog and a cup of coffee.

Through the yard though, was a reminder of the events of last evening. Large pieces of ash were spread through the grass.

Around 11 last night, I heard a sharp popping sound from just outside. It sounded closer to a gunshot than a fire cracker and got my attention. It was the persistence of the fire whistles that got me off my feet. It sometimes seems daily when our volunteer fire departments are called to duty but this was clearly multiple alarms.

I looked from the back of the house and noticed the fire trucks coming from across the river; confirming more than one department was called. As I scanned to see where they were going, I noticed the smoke billowing over our neighbor’s house. Four doors down, the house was on fire. Here is an article about the fire.

Every neighbor was on the street, twenty firemen were on the call, multiple trucks, the police and anyone who saw or heard came to see. People spoke of the bravery of the fireman, their sense of duty, some cried at the loss of the property and the lives that were changed. Thank God that no one was home and no life was lost.

As I walked through the yard this morning, it struck me that you may never hear of a great tragedy in Brownsville. I hope that is true. But we are living a slow tragedy of lost possession, lost lives and lost hope. Last night, that loss was abrupt and with one family. More often it is eroded over a long time in many families. Brownsville is a slow tragedy.

It is not without hope. There are many who claim victory in Brownsville. Not because of any one effort, any single person, or any new initiative that will "change" Brownsville. Victory is claimed by those who love and obey God and run the agonizing race in this mission field we call Brownsville. Hope does not disappoint.

Romans 5: 3-5