Feeling A Bit Bruised And Beaten Today?

I'ts been a gut wrenching 72 hours for us... we, who live in the land of the free and home of the brave.

Our hearts ache, cry out when little boys hold peace signs and die at the hand of evil.

A family changed in the blink of a finish line. 

A momma who may survive, but will never be the same.

A daughter who will not run to her father again. 

An older son and dad... left to pick up pieces, tatters, of a life.

I think of friends, in shock from the loss of a young friend. 

A momma, a friend, needed and loved by many.

Woke up Sunday morning and she was gone.

No goodbyes, wait, hold on, one more hug.

I see my son's Facebook post Monday morning saying he wished he was in Boston running the marathon that day. 

My breath catches, forever grateful he was not there.

Monday afternoon I am giving blood, in a red bus with too many people with nothing to do. People do not like to take time to give this precious liquid away.

It's life as usual for them, until one tells us of the events in Boston.

Thankful for the blood that flows from my arm and will enter the arm of another.

Perhaps they will feel the warmth I send along.

I watch the news and wish I could shut it off. 

Foolishness, as if this was a made for TV crime show... and we demand answers, when the hour ends.

I blame the media.

Remind me to never to go out in the ocean with them. I've no doubt they would sabotage the boat for a good story, even though we'd die telling it.

I think of the young man who is struggling with a cancer diagnosis. His life has been ripped apart, no warning. 

There is a wedding soon, and life to think of. Twenty five is too young for this.

His parents share their exhaustion, and their undaunting love for this boy/man.

We pray.

I look at my prayer journal. The pages full... needs never ending.

The prayers sent up to One who waits, who is always listening.

I look at another page. Answers.

Ah... this is why I journal. This is why I pray.

Reminders, proof, of His faithfulness.

I am bruised and battered today, but my heart cry is heard. 

My heart aches for the agony of so many.

Life is beautiful, yes, but so tragic....

We would not understand the beauty if we did not experience the pain.

I am sorry for this truth.

We find our beauty amongst the ruin.

Hold on friend...

just a bit longer,

and seek the light.