The world is still a beautiful place

I woke up before the family this morning, which lately I’ve been super resistant to do. As any working parent knows, once you are pulled out of your last secret bastion of dreamland and your feet hit the floor, very few moments left in the day are your own. But this morning I felt compelled to write.

I’ve always hesitated using writing as recovery after tragedy. As much as I love words, they fall short of healing me. Everything I say sounds trite and cheap in the shadow of deeply human fear and sorrow and the questions that pervade inexplicable loss. I needed to find a foothold, though, b/c last night, after watching footage of the explosions at the Boston Marathon, I just felt tired and sad and defeated–and once again helpless to heal those closest to the terror. So far removed, and so connected–it is a remarkable thing, this being human.

So, last evening, Cass and I checked in after work: how our days were going, how we were processing another national tragedy, what we were going to do for dinner (always that routine to take care of–basic needs to be met, little girls to feed). I dropped off Eva at voice lessons and took little Shilo to the library. Particularly fond of building interiors these days, she always finds something to say about wherever we are: Church, Kroger, wherever. Her comment in the library moved me in particular. Looking all around her, eyes wide, face radiating joy, she exclaimed with the most heartfelt words, “This whole world is so beautiful!” And you know what, it really is. Despite evil actions, despite nature’s unforgiving disasters, we wake up to a symphony of song and light every morning.

As Ryan O’Neil of Sleeping at Last says, “Life is a gorgeous, broken gift.”

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