A couple of days ago a tragic thing happened to one of our neighbors. Their teenage son goes to church with us. It was a tragedy makes you stop and take inventory of your own life.
This has been on my mind and heart since then. I am not close to the family. I have been getting to know their so n at church. My heartaches for them. It has been aching for them since I found out.. This is not my tragedy and this is not going to be about me...well as much as a blog about my life is about me.
I went back to work and checked Facebook and Twitter to see if anyone had said anything, they hadn't. They were talking about TV shows and the Olympics and new cars and the snow-cone stand closing. I wanted to say "Don't you realize that it really doesn't matter if you have a snow-cone or not?" My boss' young daughter came with her dad to pick up my boss. She came to my desk, she uses my computer to watch Barney while her mom is finishing up. The hope in her eyes. She just wanted to watch Barney, I wanted to sit and sing "The Wheels on the Bus" for the rest of the day. I wanted to breath in her life, her hope. It was a sign that the world does go on.
That night we went to the store, no food in the house, I looked at all the people shopping and all the people that were shopping and I thought to myself "Just two blocks away a family sits broken, how can you just go on with your lives?" Of course they didn't know about the family, the world must go on.
As much as I have been affected by it (I hugged a sweaty boy ugh) I know that their pain is 100, 1000 times more.
How does life go on? What are the magic words that take away the pain? I just do. I cling to my faith, I cling to Christ and the cross. I remember that God has a plan for me. He promised me a hope and a future. Do I tell my neighbors that? Yes? Now? No but someday. Someday.
Now? I pray. I pray for peace that passes understanding. I pray for them to be comforted. I will go and give them hugs and not say anything and just be there for them. Be the hands and feet of the church.
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