When disaster strikes—when waters rise without warning, when the vulnerable are taken, when whole communities find themselves unmade in an instant—we are reminded of how little we control and how much we depend on mercy we cannot manufacture ourselves. The psalmist speaks not from a place of safety but from the midst of trouble, and finds there a strange and difficult comfort: that someone, somewhere, sees and knows what has been lost. To acknowledge such sorrow is not to resolve it, but to refuse the lie that suffering goes unseen. In a day marked by sudden upheaval and the fragility of ordinary life, we might ask whether we too are present to the suffering around us, whether we truly see those in adversity, or whether we turn away too quickly to easier news.