Plane crash, recovery missions and how in an instant, everything can change
A routine flight Wednesday night just a couple of miles from where we live turned to tragedy, and suddenly the familiar sound of planes overhead carries a weight I can’t shake. I’ve been sick watching it all unfold, tied to the news cycle, examining the same gut-wrenching footage over and over. My baby daughter, blissfully unaware of the horrors of the world, clings to me. I squeeze her tighter, her warmth a small comfort against the overwhelming sense of fragility that comes with moments like this.
I think about the families who lost loved ones in that crash; their lives split into a before and an after. The call that changes everything. The last text message, suddenly sacred. The world moves on, but grief doesn’t follow a news cycle. It lingers, a wound that never quite closes.
Then there are the first responders, the ones who run toward the wreckage while the rest of us sit stunned. They pull bodies from twisted metal, administer aid to the living, witness horror most of us can’t fathom. They do this without expectation of fame or fortune, yet they deserve it more than any Hollywood celebrity or sports star that I can think of. Their names won’t be trending on social media. There won’t be millions of dollars in sponsorship deals. But they should be the ones we put on a pedestal.
It’s hard not to feel like the world is a cruel place when awful things keep happening at every moment, in so many parcels of the planet. Somewhere, as I write this, someone is taking their last breath in an accident, in a war zone, in a hospital bed. Someone is saying goodbye for the final time, not knowing it’s the final time. We live our lives on a thin thread of chance, here one moment and gone the next.
So what are you doing with the time you have? Are you making it count? Are you spending your days consumed by political fights that won’t matter when it’s your last hour? Are you too afraid to stand up for what you believe in, worried about how you’ll be perceived? Death doesn’t wait for us to get our act together. It doesn’t pause for our indecision.
There’s a lot of criticism these days for those who send “thoughts and prayers” in the wake of tragedy. But I get it—sometimes it feels like a hollow offering when action is needed. But when we feel helpless, what else is there? It's a way of showing empathy, of saying, "I see your pain, and I grieve with you." There’s nothing wrong with that. In a world that often feels so devoid of kindness, I’d rather people offer prayers than indifference.
This week, tragedy hit close to home. But it’s always close to home for someone. And if there’s anything to take from it, it’s that we don’t have the luxury of waiting. Kindness matters. Love your people. Speak your truth. Make your time here matter. Because in an instant, everything can change.
My deepest condolences to those who lost loved ones and our incredible first responders.
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR SUPPORT.
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