We are en route to Connecticut to help Mom move, and we departed from the usual route through east Tennessee and up through Virginia to explore an alternate journey through Kentucky and West Virginia. Leaving Nashville after church, we heard a snip of news about a plane crash at Kentucky's Bluegrass Airport. Lexington, we wondered? We were heading that way.
Our scenic journey took us to the end of the Bluegrass Parkway (a lovely drive), and we approached the outskirts of Lexington and past beautiful, bucolic horse farms. And then the road shifted to one lane, and the flashing lights of a police car at the end of a road was the first clue. Up that road toward the right, at the crest of a hill, were dozens of vehicles. According to the map, the airport was just ahead. It had to be the crash site.
It was an odd juxtaposition, these rolling green pastures playing host to horses at leisure, with carnage just the other side of the crest of the hill. Beauty and unconcerned life within sniffing distance of wreckage and death and grief. It was a sober moment as we passed, and neither of us spoke while our silent prayers ascended for those that were lost.
Life can be cruel that way, and yet, the contrast between life and death, darkness and light, joy and sorrow, weave through our days on a regular basis. Some days we are touched by it in deeply personal ways and our lives change forever. On other days we are witnesses to the shadows of someone else’s grief, or escape being touched at all.
I am sad and grieved for the families of those who have been lost. And I am grateful for the beauty of Kentucky horses and their lush green pastures.