You know, I cannot write well enough, nor exact enough, nor ever enough to capture what an Angel Flight is. Michael Yon writes about it, as a reporter, this week. As I read Yon's piece this evening, I felt twitchy, frustrated, sad. It all reminded me that I do not accomplish anything by being merely more informed. Instead, for those families who do know an Angel Flight, we have an obligation to understand it in our gut, in our heart, in our pain. An obligation to be good. To be angels. Soldiers Angels. A friend. To reach out. To give deeply. To follow their lead. To lead.
Yet sometimes, in our limits, our pains, and our own sorrows, we can we fall short in being an Angel of Mercy and of Compassion. Even as we reach for tenderness, we can sometimes be rejected, shied away from, left alone. We sometimes completely miss the mark, and it can sting. But it should never mean stopping -- healing and friendship can be obvious virtues, but in the murky waters of painful times the path is rarely clear.
Late on Sunday I wrote, in frustration of my own inadequacy, about the heroes of our time, about those who are prolific in fulfilling their talents, their destiny. I wrote, "There is discipline in doing what's right. There's discipline in being good at what you do. There's discipline, simply, in being good."
Goodness comes at sacrifice. For those of us not bold enough to know an Angel Flight and its painful mercy, we do owe those braver souls our own sacrifice as we reach for love, for friendship, for hope even with its inconvenience, even with our mistakes. Succumbing to the comforts of convenience of our often lazy pop culture is really not an option.
There is a chance to be good again, for all of us. We ought to follow their lead, and give with unbounded generosity of our risk, life and dedication. And we owe them our gratitude, our fortitude and especially our kindness.
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