I can’t sleep. I don’t think any of us can.
We are all restless. Reading articles, or talking, trying to distract ourselves with apps like Cookie Jam. Because maybe, just maybe, if we read enough, or say enough, or align the shapes just right, it will protect us.
But, of course, it can’t.
We are all hurting.
All heart sore and red eyed from crying. All heavy chested, and raw in the throat, from trying to make sense of the senseless, and explain to our children what isn’t right.
We are all grieving, tonight.
We all tucked our babies in a little slower. Read one more story, hugged even tighter, and waited a few extra beats, before having the courage to turn off the light.
We waited in the hall, outside of their rooms, crushed by the weight of gratitude.
We listened to hear our babies breath, as they eased into rythmic rest. And then we doubled over and clenched our chests. Leaned heavy on the wall, mouths open and closing, silently, in anguished torment.
It is not enough that my babies are safe. That they slumber only feet away from me.
Today a mother lost her only son. Not misplaced, he was taken, without justice or reason.
Everything changed, in an instant.
A sister became an only child. A high school became the scene of a crime. A sophomore became a murderer. And three people are still hospitalized. Just sit for a minute, next to the weight of that.
I want justice.
I want grace.
I want redemption and healing to flood our hearts and space.
I want walls knocked down, glass ceilings shattered. I want a river of mercy to invade our planet.
I want the darkness out, the light brought in. I want Goliath taken down, and the underdog to win.
I want joy in the morning. An end to grieving. I want children to grow up, without fear or trembling.
I want for the good guys to win, the bad guys to get right.
I want the weak to be strong, the chained to be free. I want my heart to feel unweighted, like it belongs to me.
I want to be able to bear watching the news again.
I want senseless deaths to come to an end.
Most of all, I want each parent to be right, when they think it won’t happen, couldn‘t happen, to them or their child.