Reflection

I am not a deep thinker, although there are times when I think I can have deep thoughts.

The tornadoes that ravaged six states in middle America Friday – and particularly a candle factory in Mayfield, Kentucky – have brought me to this location in my brain again.

The scenes of devastation are almost overwhelming: overturned vehicles, leveled buildings, a debris field that stretches across 250 consecutive miles. And then you think: the number of people who lost their lives just two weeks before Christmas is both heartbreaking and heartrending. And then you think of the survivors whose lives have been irrevocably changed.

When I first saw the news Friday morning, I turned to Kim and tearfully choked, "You know, you try to live your life each day. You go to work, and just like that, even the weather can kill you. You just never know."

One of the first things that crossed my mind was that this devastation is another prime example of climate change, as if we needed another reminder. Tornadoes, perhaps F-5s, in December. At least 30 tornadoes in six states. One of them rampaging for an unbelievable 250 miles on the ground. We're seeing things we don't think we've ever seen before.

Yesterday, right here in Lexington, on Dec. 11, it was 73 degrees. We haven't had a decent snowfall in nearly two years.

I try not to ponder on why there is suffering in the world. I'll leave that up to the theologians. Human history is littered with tragedy. Maybe a lot of it is our own doing. We build homes on fault lines, we live in the shadow of volcanoes, we insist on living near beaches that annually welcome hurricanes. We carry guns like they were toys and ignore vaccines because unqualified politicians tell us it's a hoax.

We eat ice cream when our cholesterol is too high and our hearts threaten to attack us.

Having said that, it's still the world we live in. Wars will happen. So will famine. So will disease. So we carry on, knowing the best we can do is to play the percentages and hope the next tornado veers to the left into an open field and not to the right into downtown Main Street.

It might be the best we can do. It might be all that we have.