A couple odds and ends (emphasis on “odd”) in the news of late.

First there is Lake Lanier.

As we reported a year ago, when it comes to places that seem curiously perilous, one need look no farther than Lake Lanier in Georgia north of Atlanta.

There are folks who claim they have been tugged underwater by unseen hands there. Others report apparitions. Some people have simply disappeared. [See here]

This is a sizable lake, with built-in physical hazards. And many visit, so you are going to have a high number of problems. About eleven million descend upon its shores per annum.

But in the decades since its construction, in the mid-1950s, the body of water, often sedate on the surface, has claimed the lives of 500 to 700 people.

The most recent?

Dustin Valencia, 43, who was reported missing last Wednesday when he didn’t show up to pick up his children from school. Police found his car parked at Little Ridge Park on the lake, suggesting that Valencia had gone kayaking on the lake, although his inflatable raft was nowhere to be seen, according to authorities.

Pray for him (and his young family).

The lake has a long history that includes abuse of Indians and subsequent curses.

Another oddity, this time from Sweden: what they’re calling the “resignation syndrome.”

This is when a person suddenly blinks out of our reality: suddenly, for no apparent physiological reason, withdraws into a totally catatonic state. As BBC reports of one case: “When her father picks her up from her wheelchair, nine-year-old Sophie is lifeless. In contrast, her hair is thick and shiny – like a healthy child’s. But Sophie’s eyes are closed. And under her tracksuit bottoms she wears a nappy. A transparent feeding tube runs into Sophie’s nose – this is how she has been nourished for the past 20 months.

At its core, this haunting phenomenon touches on profound spiritual and existential themes: suffering, exile, the mysterious resilience—and fragility—of the soul, and a child’s silent cry for refuge beyond the reach of trauma. Between 2003 and 2005, 424 cases were reported. There have been hundreds more since.

Prayer need here. [Photo BBC]

Dr. Elisabeth Hultcrantz, a volunteer doctor and former surgeon, describes the children as having disconnected the conscious part of their brain—a description that echoes the spiritual idea of the soul entering a protective exile. It is not just mental withdrawal; it seems almost like a mystical dissociation, as though the child’s inner being has fled a world where safety, love, and justice have been shattered.

This condition occurs in children who have witnessed horrific violence—often against their own parents. The syndrome’s emergence after arrival in the safe haven of Sweden, and particularly following traumatic events like asylum rejection, points to something more than psychology. It suggests a collapse of hope—a metaphysical despair so deep that life itself becomes unbearable. In the moment these children realize even their last chance at sanctuary may be denied, they seem to spiritually surrender.

“It starts as a kind of fatigue; the children speak little, then not at all,” says another report. “When they fall into an endless sleep, their frightened parents might take them to the hospital, but their brain scans inevitably come back normal. They are not in comas. On paper, they appear to have normal waking and sleeping cycles. But some of them have been asleep for years. Some may never wake at all.”

[Photo Wall Street Journal: Two sisters with it:]

Wikipedia tells us that between the 15th and 19th centuries, something similar, episodes of what was then called “motor hysteria,” frequently occurred within convents. Many of the young women who populated these nunneries had been placed there by their families, sometimes against their will. Upon entering, they took solemn vows of chastity and poverty and lived under a rigid, highly disciplined structure. Within this cloistered environment, unusual and often disturbing behaviors began to emerge—frequently interpreted as signs of demonic possession. Nuns would use vulgar language, engage in provocative conduct, and in some cases, imitate animal sounds; at one convent, the sisters reportedly meowed like cats. Such episodes often led to the summoning of priests to perform exorcisms.

The mystery deepens: why only Sweden? Is there something about its unique intersection of expectations, asylum processes, and cultural isolation that breaks the final thread of trust in a child? Or is it, in a more spiritual sense, a sacramental silence—an unintended witness from the most innocent, highlighting the moral toll of global displacement?

Some compare it to the quiet fading of prisoners in concentration camps. Numerous conditions resembling Resignation Syndrome have been reported before – among Nazi concentration camp inmates, for example. In the UK, a similar condition – Pervasive Refusal Syndrome.

There is only a chilling consistency: children retreating into darkness when the world no longer offers them light.

In spiritual terms, Resignation Syndrome may be the voiceless lament of a lost generation, children whose suffering is not just psychological, but spiritual—deep, existential wounds that only love, safety, and perhaps Divine Mercy can heal.

And miraculously, many recover. Slowly. Quietly. When their families are granted asylum. When fear recedes. When love and security return. In these awakenings, too, is a spiritual echo: resurrection after despair, and the silent power of the human soul to return when it is wanted again.