More killings. More bereaved loved ones. More mourning.
I’m crying, blinking furiously just to see the screen while I’m typing.
I didn’t know until a few moments ago about this week’s police shootings in Louisiana and Minnesota or the subsequent shooting of police and other citizens in Dallas. (Once again, for two days I’ve not watched or listened to the news and have given Facebook and Twitter only brief glances.*) I almost wish I hadn’t caught the noon news today.
So much pain. So much death. Too much.
My first reaction was a silent scream. NO!
My second thought was of the victims’ families — their shock and grief and disbelief and pain. NO!
My third reaction was sobbing. My heart cries out for all the new grief those families face. My body remembers early bereavement. Would I wish it on anyone who’d ever wronged me? NO!
I’ve never understood violence and hatred — especially in response to fear or in protest of violence and hatred. Although I consider myself pro-life, I have never agreed with those who spew hatred (or violence in any form) toward those who choose differently. Although my ancestors were persecuted for their religious beliefs, I’ve never understood those who proclaim their faith as a reason to fight.
In my town (Orlando) and country, hateful violence against individuals continues to break homes and hearts. Around the world, war and upheaval send families fleeing from nations ripped apart by strife.
Why don’t they, why won’t they recognize the wisdom of another way? There’s timeless truth that “a soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger” (Proverbs 15:1, KJV).
Even the longest of lifetimes is too short to live in anger, because the cliché is true: life’s too short.
Especially when it’s senselessly cut down.
*Sometimes a person’s grief makes it difficult to watch (or read or listen to) news of others’ losses. Please see Grief Is Not a Spectator Sport to better understand why some mourners — at least why I — avoid heeding the news.