Woke up feeling…not sure how to describe what it is that I am feeling. Tired? Sick? Depleted? Heartbroken? Anxious?
I look at the grass glistening with dew. The birds are singing. The humidity captures and accentuates the smell of lilacs. The scent is almost suffocating. I don’t recall the lilacs ever smelling that strongly.
How is it that I am surrounded by such peace and beauty and yet I still feel…Tired? Sick? Depleted? Heartbroken? Anxious? (Perhaps I am feeling all of these things?)
Two horrific shootings in our country over the weekend — yet again. Two acts of violence that capture how sick we as a people are. My prayers for those grocery shopping in Buffalo and those attending church in California feel hollow. I am numb. And yet, I need to focus. I have stories to write. I have stories to edit. There are magazine deadlines that cannot be missed.
But it is hard to get to work today. Hard because all that I do today seems trivial and silly compared to the great pain, the endless tears and the broken hearts of those grieving today.
I cannot believe we are living in a world where we risk our lives going to get groceries, going to school, going to church, going to…wherever.
I want to retreat further into the woods. Go off the grid. But that is not the solution to the world’s pain and suffering.
And so I find myself sipping my coffee with tears streaming down my face. I have deadlines to meet. I have stories to write. The world’s love of productivity prods me to get on with my day.
My reply to the world, “Really? Get on on with the day?” Is “getting on with our day” the way we heal a broken world?
When do our hearts ever have a chance to heal anymore?
There seems to be no reprieve from horrific news. And each headline, each senseless death, each act of hate, rips off the tender scab that began forming on our tender hearts.
All I have left inside of me is a tired, broken whisper: Lord, in your mercy. Hear our prayers.
May God’s mercy wash over us this day and may our bitter tears flow into deep streams of grace.