When he was small, my youngest son had a habit of filling his pockets with treasures he encountered in his daily adventures. I didn't always understand the value he saw in his chosen objects -- really, how many rocks and sticks could one boy keep? In his eyes, though, each one was beautiful and important. Life is just like that on a larger scale, isn't it? We gather up the precious bits of our experiences and save them all to learn from and enjoy later. Perhaps you'll find a little something here that you'd like to keep in your own pockets. Thanks for visiting.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Today, though, I am still feeling sickened, and tired, and heartbroken. Sickened that someone could take an event that brings people from all over the world together to celebrate the human spirit and, in an instant, turn it into a horrific shattering of limbs and lives. Tired of having to once again hide the morning newspapers from my children to protect them from learning too soon just how ugly our world can be. So deeply saddened to see yet another child's sweet face smiling in a photograph and know that he will never grow up to see his dreams for peace or anything else fulfilled. It is almost too much to bear.
As we have after each awful tragedy that has happened in our history, we humans will get back up and keep moving forward as the days go on, the memories of what we've lost making us ever more determined to help make our world a kinder, gentler place. I hope you'll forgive me if I'm not quite there yet, though. Today, all I really want to do is cry.
Sending love and healing thoughts to all those affected by the Boston Marathon bombings.