Woe Is Us

Woe is Us by Gene Poore Woe is us! I was one of the last to leave the city. Before me, refugees serpentined out of sight, their two-wheeled carts creaking, hauling their family possessions. Animal-stink polluted the air. Cattle moaned. Babies cried. People whined and collided with those in front, pushing and shoving for personal space. Blisters popped on my sandaled feet. Biting insects infested the heated air, as our movement stirred the humidity day and night. Dust clogged my throat and blurred my vision. I stumbled, groping for direction while a cloud by day and a pillar of fire at night led the way. Woe is us! As we camped on the shore of the Red Sea, in the distance behind us, Pharaoh’s six-hundred chariots spewed billowing dust clouds. We murmured about being safer as slaves than killed in this wilderness. And who believed the rumor about the sea dividing and us walking across on dry land? The truth would come at dawn when Pharaoh’s army killed us. For now, only darkness between Pharaoh’s camp and ours kept us unharmed. Yet, strange how the same cloud-pillar we followed in daylight lit our camp at night while Pharaoh’s camp remained in darkness. At dawn, I saw our leader stretch forth his hand over the sea. An East wind whirled from nowhere. As the wind blew, the sea waters rolled back on themselves-and stayed back all day--exposing the muddy sea bottom. That night the wind howled and held back the waters and dried the seabed. The next morning we raced across the hard seabed as water towered above on both sides. People, cattle, possessions: We scrambled unharmed to the opposite shore. Oh, no. Look! Woe is us! Pharaoh’s army rumbles across the wind-dried seabed. I trembled. In a few moments . . . Massacre! But, look! What happened? When Pharaoh’s army reached midway, chariot wheels came off. As Pharaoh’s horde stumbled and slowed, our leader again stretched forth his hand over the sea. The East wind stopped. The sea roared down on Pharaoh’s army. In seconds, the water smoothed and glittered. Silence embraced us. Our multitude stood in awe--fearing our leader’s God. Moses had said God would deliver us. Yet, we had so little faith. Now, we prayed in unison. “The Lord is my strength and song; and [the Lord] is become my salvation: [the Lord] is my God, and I will prepare [the Lord] an habitation; my father’s God, and I will exalt him.” (EXO 15:2). But, woe is us! What would we eat? Who would feed us? From where would food come for such a multitude? Oh, woe is us! * * * * * * * If we experienced such an escape as Moses’ people’s exodus, would we have had fewer minute-by-minute grumbles than those captives rescued from human bondage? Unlikely. Today, “Woe is us” reflects from a honk after the traffic light flicks green, and the lead car creeps. Like those who passed between the parted waters, we too soon forget the daily blessings granted us as we noise our next “Woe is us.”