Responding to Sirens

The sound of sirens pierces the sunny winter day as I relax on a Sunday afternoon. I listen but don’t move. Not yet. When we first moved from the country to our neighborhood almost five years ago, I would jump up and look at every passing vehicle that blared its siren. I continue to listen and as the sound gets louder and starts to pass our house, I hear the siren cut out. I’ve progressed during my years here from checking out every siren to only taking notice when the siren stops in my neighborhood.

Our neighborhood is in the old part of town with old Victorian houses that have mostly been transformed into duplexes or more. The house that the police car is across from is one of these houses with at least four residences in the once-large, single-family home. I head for our front porch to see what’s going on. My kids think I’m too much of a busybody. Why do I feel the need to look?

More sirens are heard on their way. A fire truck and ambulance arrive and a couple more police cars. The EMTs get out their medical equipment and probably six officers and EMTs head for the door. It’s cool out but the sun is warm today. I had spent time sitting on the porch in the sun earlier. I head outside to watch from a few doors down. Is it a fire? The typical medical emergency? Why so many police? And the unmarked car which is most likely a detective’s car, what’s that here for? 

As time goes on I see the medical personnel drive off. Either all’s well or… I check our local crime scanner Facebook page and see that there was a call for a 37-year-old who was unconscious with a possible overdose. I’m not surprised. We’ve had a number of possible overdose calls in our neighborhood, though I don’t remember any fatalities or deaths or whatever term sounds best. Are we numb to the terms? Just another person passing from this life to…???

I hang out outside watching. I think of the moms in our While We’re Waiting child loss support group who have lost children to overdose. I know their stories. Somewhere, a mom may hear the news that her son just died of an overdose. Her world will come crashing down. 

I think about how casually our society reacts to news of overdoses. They’re the “unimportant” people in society it seems. “Just another druggie.” At least it’s not a cute kid who was ravaged by cancer. It’s not the kid killed by a drunk driver – the model citizen. In my neighborhood though, it’s not a surprise. 

Another car pulls up with an animal carrier. Pets are taken out of the house and away. They just lost their owner. Who will take them in? Then a man with a camera heads inside to investigate. Was this a crime scene? What are they looking for? I don’t need to speculate or know. It’s better that way.

I head inside and go back to taking care of my kids. I mull over my thoughts and responses. Why do I feel the pull to know what’s going on? Should I care? Of course I should care – I mean really care. Not just want to be in the know.

I head outside a bit later when I see my friendly neighbor out shoveling her walk. We haven’t talked all winter so it’s nice to catch up. The conversation turns to the scene two houses down from her. We speculate together a bit and I talk about the child loss support group meeting coming up and we talk about the losses that are so prevalent. We remember the alcohol-related car crash that took two teens’ lives recently. Tragedies. 

Now I’m back inside waiting for my younger girls to get back home and my day to get busy again. I reflect on life here in this neighborhood – so different from living in the country where we used to live. The hurts of the world seem so much more visible here – especially on days like today. What can I do to make a difference? 

Today in our sermon at church, we read in Romans 9 where Paul speaks in verse 2 of his “unceasing anguish” over the Jews who didn’t believe in Jesus. Do I have unceasing anguish over the lost? Do I really care about the person who overdosed down the street? Are all people equally important to me? Do I ignore the sirens and hurts around me and just keep living my life?

What did Jesus do? He hung out with the outcasts, the lepers, the tax collectors, the people no one cared about. He wept when a friend died. He didn’t just gawk at what happened and then turn to go gossip about it with others. He loved and cared and healed.

I do know that I can put myself in others’ shoes and empathize. I can reach out to those in pain. I can pray for those I don’t know that are experiencing pain, such as those who knew the 37yo who just died. When I tell others what happened, we could stop at that moment and pray. I can pray for the officers and EMTs who are going home with memories of a dead body. Do I believe that my prayers will bring comfort? Maybe God will help someone to give just the right help that those people need? I know there are other responses that would be helpful if I’m willing to seek for God’s heart in each situation.

I pray that our hearts will be filled with compassion and our ears will be listening for the Lord’s guidance on how to respond to the world around us, especially in the crises that are happening all around us.

Featured Image Photo by Egor Ivlev on Unsplash