Good morning…
Re-editing our post from a few days ago, I stick in a strange new word that somehow feels right. Viscerally. I am drawn to add viscerally (touch “Previous. Previous.” above to revisit this message). The sentence now reads: “My gut viscerally felt like the knotted debris still littering the roads after Hurricane Michael.”
I google this foreign-to-me word to figure out its meaning and run into this question: “What does visceral pain feel like? Visceral pain occurs when pain receptors in the pelvis, abdomen, chest, or intestines are activated. We experience it when our internal organs and tissues are damaged or injured. Visceral pain is vague, not localized, and not well understood or clearly defined. It often feels like a deep squeeze, pressure, or aching.”
This is exactly what I felt as I drove through the tattered, torn up community of Panama City, Florida. My eyes picked up the pulse of the survivor’s pain, without exchanging a word. As I drove through the devastation, I experienced a vague squeezing in my gut, an aching pain I could not fully understand or clearly define. The picture of this knotted up, gnarly root system of debris symbolizes the way I viscerally felt.
I actually snapped very few pictures. It somehow felt dishonoring to be a tourist in the ravaged wreckage of other people’s lives. The pictures I did take will serve as a reminder for all of us that, although many of our lives have returned to “normal,” life on parts of Florida’s panhandle will never, ever be the same.
Our trunk-full of coats, shoes, and blankets may provide a little comfort to those still aching in visceral pain. Wherever we wake up this third day of 2019, every single one of us is wired to share each other’s pain, compassionately connecting us to the God who heals whole.
…I will heal you, lead you,
and give you comfort,
until those who are mourning
start singing my praises.
No matter where you are,
I, the Lord, will heal you
and give you peace (Isaiah 57:18b-19, CEV).
…Sue…
