April 15, 2013 3:10
CST.
I have been watching news coverage over the last few
minutes as the horror unfolds in Boston this afternoon. Just after 3pm Eastern Time, two explosions
tore through the Boston Marathon. The number
of dead at this time is officially counted at three, and it is my prayer that
that number doesn’t change. It wasn’t
until they showed the video of the explosion and I comprehended that the
unbelieving gasp I had just heard was mine that I realized that I had been
holding my breath for a while.
I am writing these words as tears roll down my cheeks. I’m not entirely sure why I am so moved by
something that happened so far away, to people that I may never know. All I know is that it does. Maybe it’s because in a very real way I do know them. I may not know their names, but the lives they
experience are not so unlike mine that I can’t share in their shock and grief
as those lives are disrupted in massive and confusing ways. Maybe it’s because of a faith that leads me
to the understanding that in my humanity, I am to be in relationship with
others in this world in significant ways and that means sharing in both times
of celebration and of mourning. Maybe it’s
because I am grieving the loss of a false sense of security in the reminder
that nothing in this world is permanent; nor is our safety guaranteed just
because we are “good” Christian children.
Or it may just be some of all
of it.
