Connections...

Our Connections in Life: So Important, so fragile.

When our children reach young adulthood, we remind ourselves that we must take advantage of the opportunities to connect with them because all too quickly they will be pursuing their own lives, perhaps moving away as they advance their own careers. Yet, somehow, it always seems that in the midst of our own schedule, a missed opportunity to make that connection can be made up for down the line. If not tomorrow, then perhaps next week.

Of course, there are no guarantees for any "make up" opportunities. Yesterday evening I was reminded how tenuous and fragile life can be. As most everyone knows by now, a major bridge collapsed here in the Twin Cities at 6:05 p.m. yesterday (Wednesday, August 1st.) I had talked to both of my sons earlier in the day. Karsten, the 18 year old still lives at home with my wife (we're separated pending divorce) and daughter, and is preparing to leave for college in a few weeks. Torben is 21 and living on his own.

I was running a couple of errands late in the afternoon, and made one final stop in the local Target discount store. As I walked past the electronics department, someone had turned a stereo radio on at a very noticeable volume. I was irritated at their lack of consideration when I began to process what was being broadcast. They were describing a scene in which people were being rescued from water, cars were crushed and in flames, and so on. My first thought was that California had experienced another earthquake and a bridge had collapsed. How tragic, I thought.

Only then did I hear the report mention Minneapolis... Interstate 35... the Mississippi River. My God! They're talking about us! That's when the realization sets in. What are my sons doing this evening? Did they say something about going to the Twins game tonight? (The Metrodome is a few blocks from the collapsed bridge, and I-35 is the primary route that we in the Northeast Metro would take.) No, wait... Karsten said he had to work... didn't he? What about Torben... he often goes into Minneapolis to visit the Walker Art Center, or go clubbing with friends... please let him be working instead!

As is to be expected, when something of this magnitude occurs in a metropolitan area, the cellular phone networks are immediately overwhelmed to the point of being unusable. No way to contact either of them! What had each of them mentioned about their plans? Think! Why don't I pay better attention when people tell me such things? It's not that I'm not interested, but somehow I always process some details but not others.

Normally, their mother would have a better fix on such things. She always managed our social schedule when we were together, and she seems to maintain a complex calendar in her head that tracks all family members. But she is in Florida with my daughter, attending a National Youth Gathering with the youth group from our church. Not only was she not here to tell me who was planning to go where, but she would certainly be frantic once the news reached her down there.

I cleared my head, drove to the house to see if Karsten was there. No. Griffey, our golden retriever, greeted me at the door. He was thrilled to have company and I was always a sure thing for a few rounds of "retrieve the tennis ball." He looked at me quizzically when I sat down by the phone instead heading for the back yard with him.

I tried to reach Karsten's cell phone. No dial tone. As I was looking up his work number, the phone rang. It was Karsten. He was at work! Thank you God! And yes, Torben was also working, he assured me.

He seemed truly surprised to hear that I would be worried about him. Instead, he was actually concerned that I would be upset with him for leaving the house a mess before his mother and sister returned from their trip. I chuckled and told him that I was alright with that since I knew he would take care of it today.

A quick call to Torben's workplace confirmed that he was indeed at work. All is well, for our family, at least. If it only it could be so for those other families, whose husbands, wives, fathers ,mothers, sisters, brothers, daughters and sons are unaccounted for. The mighty Mississippi looks so black in the night, and it must be so horrible to contemplate a loved one who is down there waiting to be "recovered."

I sat down in front of the television, watching the local media report on the latest developments. One report showed a police woman in the river, in standard uniform and apparently with no special gear. She had a rope tethered around her waist and was moving as quickly as she could through the water, among the debris along the collapsed bridge deck. She would pull herself next to a partially submerged vehicle, force a door or window open, and check for any survivors. Time and again she dove beneath the surface, straining against the strong currents, never seeming to consider the danger she might be facing should she become entrapped beneath the surface. I was immediately overwhelmed by the courage and dedication of this officer, and despite my best efforts to maintain a macho demeanor, I sobbed.

As is so often true of tragedy, we see the best of humanity amidst all of the suffering. Life is precious. Love is everything. I want to believe that I won't become complacent again, letting my loved ones slip into the background on those days when there are so many things competing for attention. If I focus on the feelings I experienced during that hour or so last evening, I've got a surefire antidote to complacency... that I can guarantee.