It was the scene of a horrific accident. The police would not let me enter without warnings. I was placed in a car with my mother away from the sight of the large crowd. People were falling in the street with shock over the loss of their friends. Grown men sobbed in the street. A father stared into the dark night. As I looked around, I saw church women gathering around the broken hearted friends and family of the deceased. They were praying over them and stretched their arms to the sky at the same time. It was quite a sight to behold. Something amazing was taking place in the middle of chaotic pain.
They used their faith to help people that they did not know as they came to terms with the loss that overcame them. It was late at night in the street. There they stood until the last tear dropped. There they remained until people were able to leave. That is where the faith was. That is where the belief in God came into play. There was no hesitation to reach out to these people and love them as fellow creatures on the same planet. It was beautiful. For whatever reason, this memory crossed my mind today.