I have been haunted all week. I take news in tiny doses, so deeply does the pain of war, or race related massacre, or dear god, nineteen little children and two of their teachers, drop me to my knees. I couldn’t stop the kaleidoscope of images slamming into one another. Their child would not be kissed goodnight tonight. The teachers’ children motherless. The living children traumatized by unspeakable cruelty. A collective trauma, the ripple effect still lapping up against another, and another, and another life.
When I feel hopeless – or helpless in this case – and wow, do I ever, I start the only place I can by balancing me. After Uvalde, I got on my SUP (Standup Paddleboard) and took to the lake to remind me of beauty. Of goodness. And then, when the tripwires of my heart have stopped thrumming, I try to make the world I have any influence over a better place. I do it intentionally. I ask the person who is assisting me at the nursery their name, and then use it, “have a nice day, Pete.” I smile at someone I don’t know. Because if I do nothing I sink. So, I start there. Then I ask myself is there anything else I can do? Is there another way I can affect change? Only, I can’t ask ‘is there something more’ yet because my heart is pummeled by the level of grief these families are experiencing.
When horrifying things happen, I MUST find good. Balance. Equilibrium. Or I am lost. And if I am lost, those who harm will have won again, if in a different way. I refuse to let that happen. To be collateral damage. But how?
I will find moments of joy today. I will remind myself there is good in this broken world. And on this cold, windy, overcast day, I will do something to lighten my heart. I’ll do yard work. I’ll make a complicated dinner because cooking soothes me, the creativity of it reminds me of hope. I’ll make sure I am gentle with myself and others. I’ll sit and listen to my trickling waterfall, close my eyes and hear birdsong. I’ll read this evening with my husband nearby. Please take care of you right now. Be intentional about it. You matter especially now.
We won’t be able to make sense of it. Some people are just bent. Evil. It was one of the hardest pieces for me to lay down out of my own experience… that I wouldn’t be able to understand or make sense of it. That ‘it’ would remain a mystery to me, and I had to be okay without an answer. Why did my dad do what he did? Why did mom throw in with him and let her kids twist in the wind? Why did my ex use force? I will never know. And that’s a reality I must live with.
So today. Today I’ll talk to my family. I will hold the hearts of those shattered parents and their families who are grieving in mine. I will try to offer hope to someone looking for good. I cannot afford to lose sight of the beauty in this world; the river, a rose, the sunrise, the scent of evergreens, the sweetness of a smile, the warmth of a hug and connection. Thank you for yours.
Thank you Laura. You made me smile and brought tears to my eyes. I think we become desensitized when there is so much bad news. I will do something nice today.
Good for you!
You make a difference, by Who You Be.
Thank You.
Thank you, David.
Again, you have captured the essence of combating pain and evil with grace and hope, Laura. It is easy to lose sight of goodness in the face of so much unthinkable pain and loss. I agree with you that we must take intentional steps to do so. Both a challenge and opportunity. Thank you for your words, dear lady!
You’re welcome. And, yes to being both a challenge and opportunity. Thank you for our connection.
I watch you struggle to share from the very core of your being when something like Buffalo or Uvakde happens. I’m always proud of you when you do, because you write elegantly in ways that not only keep you balanced but bless your readership. Way to go, my love❣️
Thank you, love. You DO know how vulnerable I feel talking close to my heart. And you encourage me to go past my faltering courage. I am grateful.
There’s a lot of talent in BOTH of you, Laura & John. And those talents bring joy and peace to those who read what you write, Laura, and listen to you play, John.
Thank you so much, dear Laura. You can respond better than so many of us who have not had the pain that you have had in your life. The grief must be unbearable. I cannot stand the cliché that sometimes I hear around me, “God won’t give you more than you can bear.”
Oh, really? Tell that to the parents and the wives and husbands and the children who experienced the effects of murder last week. You are living proof that God has been near you and that you find comfort in his beautiful creation proves that even though you’ve had more than you can bear, he is there with you. Revealing himself in so many creative ways. I love you, dear sister.
Thank you, Marti. I love you too!
Thank you Laura for sharing your feelings and responses to the latest horrible news headlines. It helps me refocus from bitterness and blame to see where I can create beauty and joy for someone else.
It’s all I know to do.
Thanks Laura – Again, you have captured the need we all feel to reconnect with some level of “good” in our surroundings. I also feel my “base” being shaken fragile. You are so talented with words, expressing yourself though writing. Your words help me know that many of us are united in our feeling of helplessness and that we are together in sadness and grief. It is just not this school tragedy, but so many issues facing our culture – and our world. Thanks for sharing your words! Let’s all keep watching for and creating some “good” in our daily life.
Thank you, Bud. And yes. We’ll find good. You are one of the good guys, and I’m grateful for our connection.
Thank you Laura.
The “Gratitude Note” I received this morning is from Etty Hillesum, “Sometimes the most important thing in a whole day is the rest we take between two deep breaths.”
May we all find that easily come-by rest.
I like that. Rest between breaths. Yes.