it happened. no one yet knows why. no one yet knows who. it’s still horribly raw and real.
we know that thousands raced, and in the midst of all the celebration and life, something dark was incubating and growing and ready to burst onto the stage of their lives.
i am a runner. i didn’t run Boston, but my friends did. i take this PERSONALLY. running is my release, my outlet. my fellow runners and i celebrate freedom from the burdens and disappointments and weight of the day-to-day when we lace up our shoes and pin on a number. and now, so many of them are hurting, their respite interrupted in the most jarring way possible. their friends and family, there to cheer them on, also must now cope with the unimaginable, nursing their own physical or emotional wounds.
sadly, we have the experience to know how these events mature. but right now we have a RAW MOMENT, right in front of us. it’s here. Unadulterated. a raw moment where nothing makes sense and the collective myth narrative of the “meaning” behind this incident has not yet been decided upon and draped over the rawness
– a Band-Aid on a shark bite –
it’s just there, in our collective face, daring us to accept it, take it all in. this happened.
in these first few moments, it’s just blood on the ground and forced calm and mounting panic and lots of crying and anger and sadness and people screaming WHAT THE HELL and strangers helping and strangers encouraging and Facebook posts with quotes from MLK or Mr. Rogers because what the hell else can you say but you want to say Something and everyone just more than a little lost.
so tonight, no bows or pretty paint jobs taped loosely onto carnage for me. please.
i just feel humble and weak and something in me knows that sometimes i need to feel humble and weak, that to try and understand what happened maybe just maybe isn’t what i need right now. i end with two quotes that I keep close to my chest for these rare but horribly humbling moments, and that Something in me knows that their voices ring true tonight.
1. “You know, we think we are the masters of the universe. And every once in a while, we are brought up short, to be told, ‘You are puny little things in the hands of the elements.’ And I don’t know if we need to be reminded of that, but somehow I feel humbler after all these incidents than I did before.” Daniel Schorr, NPR (deceased), April 17 2010.
2. “I heard and my inward parts trembled. At the sound my lips quivered. Decay enters my bones, and in my place I tremble. Because I must wait quietly for the day of distress. For the people to arise who will invade us.
“But though the fig tree will not blossom, and there will be no fruit on the vines, though the yield of the olive will fail and the fields will produce no food, and though the flock will be cut off from the fold and there will be no cattle in the stalls,
“Yet I will exult in the LORD, I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.” Habakkuk 3:16-18
Epilogue: tomorrow, I will get up and run. I will think on and pray over those Boston runners and their friends and families and begin to process the “lessons” from this event and learn from it and focus my confusion and anger into something beyond myself to hopefully make this world a place where finish lines are safe and movie theatres are safe and schools are safe and my home is safe and those most important to me are safe and…And.
but tonight, i need this Scotch in my glass and to write rambling blog posts and to know i am small and actually have very little control over my life or those i love. to know that the point of this life is not for things to make perfect sense, that I have a God that will one day set everything right that is wrong, but until then an infinite God needs for us to SEE that finish lines will be bombed and movie theatres will be unsafe and schools with little children will be threatened and that it is up to all of us to recognize our role in setting everything right that is wrong in the here and now.