Really bad things happen (2)

I feel I should come back to this knotty painful subject.
Horrible things happen to good people, or at least to those who haven't done anything particularly wrong, and we find ourselves asking the question which has no answer, "Why?"
Why did a five year old girl get abducted and murdered by someone she knew in a safe rural community? Why did a six year old boy, full of life and fun, get maimed and then killed by meningitis related septicaemia?
People deal with these questions in diffferent ways.
I've already described the "head in the sand" approach.
There's the "Find someone to blame" reaction. (The parents didn't take enough care. The doctors weren't skilful enough. etc)
The fatalistic approach of "Que sera, sera" can seem passive and uncaring.
Anger is quite usual and God often takes the blame for the unfairness of the situation.
*
*
*
(The stars are me pausing and reflecting.)
*
*
*
What would God himself say in response to these tragedies?
I think he would weep with those who weep. He would have compassion on those who mourn, just as he did when summoned to the tomb of his friend Lazarus. He would demonstrate his love in a way that was meaningful to those in sorrow. He would also help them to find a way through the sorrow to a place of peace.
*
*
*
When people say that God is uncaring or doesn't understand their pain, they forget that he has seen his son unjustly accused, beaten, tortured and murdered and has forgiven the murderers.
*
*
*
To discuss this question of suffering fully, you have to mention that unfashionable word, sin, and that very fashionable concept, free will. I think that's a subject for another day.

Really bad things happen

Today on Facebook, I learnt that a six year old boy I had never met had died of acute septicaemia and I cried. A few weeks ago a five year old girl was taken from the street near her home and it seems very likely that she has been murdered by a family acquaintance.
Really bad things happen.
There are many different responses to these horrible events.
The "head in the sand" approach is how I deal mentally with what is happening in Syria . I'm not saying that it is right, but sometimes I am just afraid to let the human tragedy of the situation in. It seems like a flood of murky water that will engulf me if I allow even a chink in my defensive armour. I read a headline, but don't go further, or if it comes onto the news I somehow allow the shocking words to run around my mind, rather than seeping in.
I couldn't stick my head in the sand when April vanished, because I had helped to plant fruit trees at the corner of her estate and know people from the village, which is only 30 miles away. I prayed for her safe return and could imagine a tiny part of the grief and anguish that her parents were going through, and still are.
And today I heard that Caden had died, having followed the story of his battle for survival through the gruelling testimony of his family, mainly his father, who gave a daily update on Facebook. I really respected the way in which faith, hope, love and despair were woven through the whole story of Caden's sudden illness and desperate fight for life.
Maybe faith in a loving God is easier when everything is plain sailing, but it is never more vital than when things are going horribly wrong.
That's all I have to say for now. My heart feels too heavy to know what to write next, but I will return to this painful subject soon.