Monday: Vegas. I won't say more. You already know.
Then on Monday night I witnessed a motorcycle/bus accident that, although things turned out OK for the motorcyclist, left me with mental images I won't recount to you, but which cannot be erased for me. I've always feared being the first car behind a motorcycle accident.
Tuesday, school was called off for a local suburb due to texted threats, spreading rumors and fear around the entire city.
Now today, an elementary school in my community has an unplanned day off due to a suicide on the playground that apparently happened overnight.
And I just grieve. I just. Grieve.
These calamities are poised to happen across our country on a daily basis. Every day, I live in a world of angry men with automatic weapons, un-helmeted motorcyclists, mean-spirited hackers, and (how can we be surprised?) despondent young people.
In a sense, today is really no different than any other day. These events didn't fall from the sky this week. And yet they've converged in a way that makes this grief so heavy I carry it like ankle weights, making every move a little harder and a little more draining.
And I am asking God, "what are you showing me?" This is the world I live in every day and I know it, but it didn't make me sad like this last week. Today it does. Instead of stuffing it, or wallowing in it, I'm trying to ask God right now, "why do I have to feel so much all at once?"
I'm starting to see a crack of light in the darkness; a calling being born from this burden of grief. I'm hopeful that this sorrow will reveal something I couldn't have discovered from just knowing these issues were out there; something I had to feel my way to understanding.
I'm hopeful that if that is true for me, it might be true for others this week. What is God showing us? How will we respond?
Lord, hear my prayer! Listen to my plea! Don’t turn away from me in my time of distress. Bend down to listen, and answer me quickly when I call to you. Psalm 102:1-2
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