That hated sound, that thankful impulse

Rescue: The MAC rescue helicopter. Image: Kevin Schrapel.
Rescue: The MAC rescue helicopter. Image: Kevin Schrapel.

The sun has set some time ago and the western horizon has lost its glow.

It’s then I hear the distinctive whap, whap, whap of the rescue helicopter, then see the speck in the sky as it drives out, out into the distance, towards the Mallee.

It is dark now, and again I hear that distinctive high sound and see a solitary red light: flash, flash, flash, powering through the night towards Adelaide, towards a hospital; and I thank a God who moves men and women who will fly through the night “just to help” for those with the skill to design the machines, and the dedication of those who maintain them.

While I thank God, part of me hates the sound of that machine.

While it is bringing life, I also know it is highly likely that somewhere out there are a family; a partner in a vehicle; headlights searching through the dark, searching; like prayers, crying out for answers, for assurance, for hope; and I ask Him to travel with them all.

I’ve been there.

I know the feel of isolation.

You may not be driving through the night, but if you are searching for answers, assurance, hope, the same God and His love says “I’m big enough to care for all of you – give me a go”.