Why Death, Lord?

When my own father died of heart attack, And died before reaching the hospital I asked the Lord why? When my auntie died of bone cancer, And saw her body crumpled in pain each day I asked the Lord why? When my own brother died of high blood pressure, and lost his ability to speak and move his body, I asked the Lord why. When twenty innocent kids at 6-7 years old plus 6 adults among their teachers and principal had their bodies riddled by bullets of a gunman, I asked the Lord why? Where is God? Where is He as Creator and Protector? Where is He when men are gripped by the power of evil? Where is He when precious blood is spilled off and wasted? Where is He when violence takes control over humanity? But I hear the silent whisper at Christmas time The whisper of angels of the birth of Jesus, the little baby wrapped up by dwadling clothes by Mary, wrapping life's own fragility, holding and protecting the child from the grip of death in Herod's intent to kill Jesus, the child. At Christmas time, I see the star above pointing to the stable where Jesus was born Not in a palace or castle where everything was secure But here in the lowly stable the fragile child Jesus was born, subject to threats of disease and death, subject to violence by those who had power in their hands to eradicate the child. At Christmas time, I see the angels pointing to the star above, to the lights of hope even if our hearts weep in pain The child Jesus is born and God is Emmanuel, here with us in our fragility and our mortality. Emmanuel is God with us even if we wrestle with the death of those we dearly love.