Our son recently turned 7 years old. He’s in first grade.
It’s been a rough week.
Oh, not for him nor his little sister. They’re fine and are excited for Christmas.
But the unspeakable horror of the Newtown shooting hit Joann and me very hard. (Though, obviously, our sadness is in no way comparable to those families directly affected.) We cried, we seethed, we cried, we hugged our kids, we cried, we prayed, and we cried some more.
Lots of people have written and said lots words in the week since the shooting. Some of it asinine and reprehensible (looking at you Dobson, Hukabee, and Westboro “Baptist” “Church.” And now you too, NRA. All of you miserable fucks make me scream obscenities and break things.). Some of it beautiful and inspiring. As usual, Fred Clark at Slacktivist has a terrific links round up.
I haven’t really been able to craft much that is coherent beyond this: We love and worship and strive to serve the God of hope. I trust in God’s promise to be present for those who mourn. I hear God calling me (and us) to mourn with them. I trust and pray that God’s light will continue to shine even in the deepest darkness.
Since I seem to have no words for the grief, the anger, and, yes, even the glimmer of hope that I feel on this longest of nights, I will let music from my favorite band speak for me. After all, isn’t that what art is for?
Make it through this night and light will shine just a wee bit longer tomorrow.
Peace be with you all.