Category: grief

Run.Fight.Hide.

Run

My baby is fast.

So fast, she beats all the kids in all the races. 

Her body moves quick, with strength and speed. 

My baby is so fast.

But she can’t outrun a bullet.

Fight

My baby is tough.

She stands up to school bullies.

Looks them in the eye and loudly yells, “Stop that!

My baby is so tough.

But, please God, dont let her stand up to a bully who has been given a gun.

She’s not tougher than a bullet.

Hide

My baby is sneaky.

She finds the best spots during family hide and seek.

Squeezes her body into tight, dark places.

My baby is so sneaky.

But…would she stay hidden if her friends were getting shot?

We’ve taught her to be a helper… so would she stay hidden from a bullet?

Oh, God, my baby.

All of our babies.

Let Us Lament

Sometimes – like these times – I don’t feel like raising a hallelujah. 

I don’t feel like singing of thankfulness and peace. 

I don’t want to sing about glory and goodness or beauty and gifts.

Sometimes – I don’t feel like singing the Psalmist’s praises in the church pew.

In these time. 

I want to utter a cry of lament.

I want to 

whisper tear filled whys

shout an anger filled how could you-

not save them…

let it pass…

allow this…

hide your face…

I want to add to the Psalmist’s anguished pleas while donning sack cloth to wallow in despair – in tune with the mamas wailing beside their daughters’ empty beds.

And so… I lament.

I cry out to the One who can hear.

And ask for

intervention

comfort

remembrance 

Hope.

Because although I don’t understand, I still believe our God is a God who can handle our raging, and holds us as we weep.