Dig Deep

“Some hillsides speak directly into our souls, without ever saying a word.”

The old adage, dig to China, came to mind the other day as I was shoveling out my neighbor’s burn pit. It was a difficult kind of digging that never seemed to end with one wheel barrow full of soot after the other. It also was a great reminder of the importance of a good shovel and how often we learn best from the past.

In light of the tragedy at the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut and also a personal tragedy my family and I suffered some twelve years ago when my wife and I buried a child of our own, I wanted to weigh in on grief. The elephant in the room at times like these is where do we go from here with all this heartache? Though no one is an expert when it comes to these things because each person’s experience during tragedy is unique to them, I would like to offer some hope on the subject. If grief is not handled correctly it can overtake you and consume you whole. Ultimately, making you a living victim of the tragedy you are trying to outrun.

In my own hometown I have learned from tragedy. On January 13^th, 1908 the little homespun community of Boyertown, Pennsylvania was devastated when the Rhoads Opera House caught on fire and 170 souls perished in the blaze. This past Sunday marked the 105^thanniversary of this catastrophe. More than half of those victims are buried at Fairview Cemetery, the very same resting place of my grandfather. The bodies of many who died were burned so badly that it took over five days for the families to identify their dead. Even then over twenty bodies were left unidentified and buried together as such in Fairview.

Today, when I stand on this hillside, even now I can still feel the remnants of pain left over from the mourners who grieved on that very same hillside so many years before. Somehow, I feel obligated to give some perspective to something that was so utterly devastating.
As I read about the Opera House Fire in books written by Mary Jane Schneider entitled “A Town in Tragedy” and a“Midwinter Mourning” I was struck by the crushing pain that this indescribable disaster had brought to my hometown so many years ago. There just seemed to be no answers.

The following is taken from “Midwinter Mourning” and best sums up the mind-set of those who survived. “Helpless to change the disaster, thankful to be among the living, they did not allow themselves to talk about it. Many did not mention the fire again in their lifetime. They did not want to feel the sadness or the horror of relieving those days”

In my opinion, I have learned that in order to survive such a travesty, one must dig deep and be resilient. The key factor with resilience is that it does not try to make sense of the pain, but rather is motivated to keep moving forward and not try to make sense out of the senseless. Just like the fire was bright during its devastation, so must our resilience be bright to overcome it.

Nevertheless, amidst all this devastation there is a story shared by Mary Jane Schneider in “Midwinter Mourning” about a little boy and his father’s shovel which seems to sum up resilience so beautifully. In my own words, the story goes like this….

With the sheer amount of graves needed to be dug to bury the town’s dead the volunteers were outweighed by the need. Not to mention that the physical task had begun to weigh heavy on the bodies and psyches of those who had the unenviable task of digging.

On one such morning the workers at Fairview cemetery, who initially thought they would be laying trolley track, were instructed to dig graves instead. Overwhelmed by the task they refused and an argument ensued between the workers and their foreman, Milton Brobst. Eventually the foreman, a powerfully built man, convinced the workers but they conceded grudgingly. They however had not counted on a seven year old boy to assist them.

Seven year old, Freddie Hertzog had overheard the news the night before at his father’s hotel. And since several of his classmates had died in the fire he decided to do something with his grief. This young boy needed no irate employer to motivate him to dig deep. So, armed with his father’s big shovel and a strong will he took up the rear of the long line of overworked and weary men who marched from the center of town to the cemetery on that dreary day. Weighted down by the heaviness of his father’s shovel, Freddie bravely announced to the distraught foreman, “I want to help dig”. With tears running down his cheeks Brobst hoisted the boy onto his shoulders, as he took the boy back to his mother. The book does not reveal whether Freddie ever got to dig or not, however the story goes on to say that “during the trying day, the story of little Freddie and his shovel touched many a weary heart.”

We must, not unlike little Freddie, refuse to allow a moment that didn’t go our way to define us and in turn ruin us and those we love. When faced with tragedy we need be resilient and move forward, despite the pain. A poster I read once regarding the tragedy of 9-11 best sums this thought up, “We are not defined by tragedy, but by how we carry on.”

Life in the aftermath of tragedy is like picking up your shovel and digging when everyone else believes you are just wasting your time. In the end, all we can do is the work as best we can, expect nothing in return, and then live our lives every day in an effort to honor those we are grieving.

Remember, every day is a gift, so pick up your shovel and DIG DEEP.

Swavel