My sister called me out of the blue last week. As her name and face appeared on my cell phone screen, I immediately wondered what was wrong. She’s a busy mom shuttling three boys around to practices after school on most weeknights. I was making sure my kids had their homework done, the TV had been turned off and I was getting everyone ready for bed. 

My sister and I don’t normally call one another unless it’s the weekend. If it’s a weekday conversation, it’s mostly through text.

I answered. She just wanted to make sure I was home. She couldn’t remember if I was traveling that week. My schedule increases during the winter months to attend in-person meetings. Sometimes within driving distance, but mostly beyond.

And that’s when she told me. A news alert about a plane originating from Wichita had come across her phone.

A passenger jet. A helicopter. Washington, D.C. A collision.

She was checking on me.

The next morning, I briefly turned on the news. It was all too much. Too close.

I wondered who was on that flight from Wichita and if I knew any of the passengers. Winter meeting season is in full force, and a lot of people I know fly from Wichita to our nation’s capital during this time of the year. 

Perhaps those on that plane had walked similar steps to mine when routinely entering the airport in Wichita. Riding the escalator up to go through security. Contemplating grabbing a chicken sandwich or filling up a water bottle before heading to the gate. Hearing “Welcome to Wichita” over the intercom. Gate agents asking passengers to tag their bags. Receiving a welcoming smile from the flight crew while boarding. Texting a loved one with a “See you soon.”

It was all too much. An incredible, incomprehensible sadness nobody should have to face. Yet so many are. A terribly sad accident.

Over the course of the next 24 hours, I turned off the TV. I turned off the radio. I stayed off social media. I couldn’t bear the noise. So much noise. The finger pointing. The blaming. The complete lack of decency. The disregard for so many hurting.

It’s all so much. So much chatter. So much noise. So much.

And so I sit. And I pray. I pray for those now facing the unthinkable. And I pray in silence. Avoiding all of the noise. Not adding to the noise. Because that’s what I’d want for my family if it had been me.

It wasn’t, but it could have been me.

“Insight” is a weekly column published by Kansas Farm Bureau, the state’s largest farm organization whose mission is to strengthen agriculture and the lives of Kansans through advocacy, education and service.