Our Hearts Are Broken

“And when He approached He saw the city and wept over it”  Luke 20:41

My friend first told me about the ‘event’ while we were at lunch.  As she began to describe the horrific story about that school in a small Connecticut town, I felt a protective screen go down in front of me, blocking the painful thoughts from entering.  I attempted to change the subject…and the waitress helped as she walked over and asked us for our order...….

Later that day, I opened up my computer and saw no less than six lead stories referring to ‘it’….I couldn’t find the strength to read about ‘it’ , so I scrolled down quickly and instead read a piece about the snowy weather in the mountains….

On my way home from work, I turned on the radio and heard the President’s voice like an echo reverberating in a closed chamber, “Today, our hearts are broken…..today, our hearts are broken… our hearts are broken…..our hearts”….and I switched off the piercing sounds and changed the channel to listen to Christmas Carols instead.

That evening my husband and I went to an annual traditional holiday party.  The guests respectfully spoke in hushed tones about ‘the thing’, the shock of it, the senselessness of it…. I couldn’t listen. I got up from my stool and went to scan the dessert offerings… chocolate pie, brownies….eat something sugary… instead of digesting the news.

Next morning, I woke up too early.  I found my mind needing to discuss ‘it’….I didn’t want to discuss it…I  tried instead making a mental list of Christmas ‘to-dos’, but my mind wouldn’t have it, and it would drag me back and try and show me images.  ‘Stop it!” I tossed and turned.  I tried meditation…deep breathing…just focus on your own breath.  I gave up and pulled myself out of bed….I must do something to get my mind off of ‘it’.

My morning stroll to the mailbox caused a chill to wrap itself around me. The sky was filled with heavy charcoal colored clouds. The air stood silent and still. I didn’t hear their usual rustling in the trees….. Perhaps the doves had flown away, or had they refused to sing today?  I looked out towards the east and wondered if the sun could bear to rise.

Back inside my house, I shivered as I unrolled the newspaper, slowly and gently out on the kitchen table.… it felt fragile…as if the weight of the story inside would cause it to disintegrate and blow away.   There ‘it’ was, on the front page …I saw the words ‘vigil’ in bold print and I couldn’t read it, I found something less painful to rest my eyes on…. a local high school basketball game.  I cared nothing about the basketball game, but better than the other thing…reading about the other thing….

I poured myself some coffee, and began to rock in my easy chair.  I picked up my pen and my journal and scrolled in the date; December 15, 2012.  “I am blessed with my faith, my family, and my friends”…I began robotically.   I wrote about the nice day I had yesterday, eating lunch with my friends.  I wrote about how I was looking forward to getting organized today, finishing my grading, cleaning my office, and I started my list of all there was to do…

…….and then the pen, as though becoming a living being, began writing on its own.  It moved from my list and began to write its own thoughts, asking the unanswerable questions, slowly spilling out the sadness.  I tried to make it write about the happy events, but the pen wrote about the tragedy. The pen wouldn’t stop writing…how could this happen, the ink asked?  How will this grief go away, how will those poor distraught families and friends of those precious little children manage to walk through this test of faith? Where were you, God, in all of this?… I can’t find the hope.  I only see despair. Is your heart broken too, Lord?  I tell the pen I have had enough and to stop.  But the pen isn’t done….

And so I sit alone, with the pen in my hand, unable to hold it back, and the tears stream down, and  the sobbing begins and I don’t try and make sense of it…I just cry.