Haiti.  It is hard to imagine.

Tucked in the somewhat artificial security of middle-class American suburbia, I found my mind continually drifting back to this tragedy, trying to make sense of it.  The poverty of the area, the magnitude of the earthquake, the depth and breadth of the hardship and grief.  Because even though I could offer some theological explanations for the existence of evil and adversity in the world, there is still the reality of the personal suffering and pain.

If you think about it, the large-magnitude earthquake that struck Haiti could hit any of us.  Especially for those of us living in northern California.  So I live in this weird juxtaposition: I sip my latte and pray for Haiti.

Honestly, it paralyzed my blogging for a time.  I felt that anything I had to say in terms of faith and the arts paled in comparison to the larger issues of life and death, tragedy and circumstance, God's will and the brevity of human life.