This lost plane is just sad beyond words. None of the "experts" can remember a time when a plane full of passengers has so totally vanished.
And none of the people who love those passengers could ever have imagined the nightmare they're living right now.
Jerked around by one theory, one "sighting," one dashed hope after another.
Watching the news, I've seen the faces, contorted with uncontrollable grief. I've prayed for people trying to grasp the probable loss of a loved one. A loss made more tragic by the cruel unknowns surrounding it.
And I've thought about how prepared I am to lose someone I love. Because we all do. Some with time to say goodbye. Some without warning.
I had time before my dad died. I had no warning when I nearly lost the woman I love.
So how do you prepare for that inevitable moment when someone who matters to you is gone? I've come up with three simple "shoulds" to guide those precious relationships.
1. Live with no regrets.
Never leave a relationship broken or breaking. Always tell them you love them. Keep your "I'm sorry"s and your "I forgive you"s up to date.
2. Cherish each day.
One day will be my last day with people I care about. No need to be morbid or obsessive about that reality. Just live today with intentional kindness. Intentional affection. Making an effort to give them all of me sometime during that day.
3. Anchor to something you can't lose.
I saw a CNN interview with the brothers of an American who was on Malaysia 370. Sadness, but no hysteria. No meltdown. When they were asked where they were finding their strength, they said, "Our faith in God is sustaining us." Their whole world was spinning out of control. But God wasn't.
Occasionally I'll try the "four cards" exercise with young people I work with. I give them four cards and use them to write the four most important things in their life. People, possessions, activities - whatever.
Then I tell them that some tragedy's going to hit and they're going to lose one of their "Big 4." But unlike real life, they'll choose which one they'll lose. I ask them to drop that card to the floor.
It gets a little more tense when I tell them they have to choose a second card to drop - a second life treasure to lose. And there's some serious resistance when, with only two cards left, I ask them to decide which of the two most important things in their life they will part with. Finally, everyone is holding only one card.
"You're now holding in your hand the person or thing that matters to you more than any other. Now - please consider one question about your last card...
"Is it something you can lose?"
Cards or not, it's a question worth asking about whatever I value in life more than anything else. If it's loseable, I can never really be safe. I can never really be secure. I need something - someone - who's disaster-proof...divorce-proof...death-proof.
I need an anchor. We all do. For the day when another card is taken from our hand.
