The day I took the above photo, more than 1000 wildfires were sparked by dry lightning storms. One week later these fires are still burning. I am near the center of the thickest smoke seen in the photo below. The red squares indicate the biggest fires. I have monk-friends who live in the Shasta-Trinity wilderness. Their beloved monastery is in danger and they have evacuated, taking ancient icons and encased slivers of Saint's bones with them.
At night I pray to the same God who left a toddler locked in an apartment with his dead mother for seven days. I pray mercy, mercy, light. Something unseen prevents me from going too deep into the why of it all. Otherwise I would grab God by the throat and say, Today, you will be judged by the condemned. As it is, I lie low in patches of grace.