...It is Well....

Some people live, and some people die.

The choice of who falls in what camp seems to be as random as a game of Russian roulette. Age, ethnicity, gender, income level....nothing seems to be a factor in who gets chosen, and who gets left behind. One family prays for a child for a decade, gets blessed with one, only to loose said child barely two decades later. Another family has children immediately, get to live and see the great-grand-children, offspring of the original prayer.
What is the criteria for falling into camp A versus camp B?? We, as Christians, are told to not fear death. Have faith. Don't let the fear of the unknown control you.
I must admit, in this new world, where young and old are fair game, it gets harder and harder.
Is it a new world, or am I just becoming more aware as I grow older??

My friend's brother, a school mate, passed away suddenly. I understand this logically, but I can't feel. My heart is frozen; paralysed with fear. I'm too scared to imagine the hurt, the pain, the sorrow. I'm too scared to fathom the idea that someone so young will be gone so soon. I'm too scared to accept it, cause in my head, I see the grim ripper with a lottery box, pulling out numbers at random.
I don't want to be scared, but I don't know how not to be. The days where I lived in the illusion that you cannot die till you have seen your grand-children are long gone. What happened to that little girl with all the faith??

I want to call or text, but I have no words. All I keep on hearing, all I keep on seeing are the lyrics to the song, 'It is well.' It is well, it is well, it is well, it is well.... I have no words, and so I will continue to say this prayer for her and her family. I'll say those words because I know above all else, only God knows why and He alone can heal. So, it is well.


Lord, may our children burry us; but only after we have seen, held and communed with our children's children. Lord, may we burry our fathers and mothers; but only after they have seen, held, blessed and created long lasting memories with our children. Lord, may we not mourn our children. Lord, may our children only rejoice in our parting to join you in our old age.

Florida 49

At a vigil for the victims of the Orlando shooting at my church. I don't understand what I feel. Correction. The feelings I actively avoid. If I let myself reach in a little, I feel the anger?? Sadness?? But it's similar to what I imagine I would feel when I let myself at news of terrorist attacks, or sudden loss of life....when I turn on the switch on emotions. 

There is a senselessness to this entire mess. There is a meaninglessness to the world that scares mi. It scares mi so I run from it. It scares mi so I run and hide. I run because I cannot control it. I hide because I cannot understand it. I run because staying distorts my conception of reality. Is it odd that I hurt at the thought of the level of hatred it requires for one to commit such atrocities?? Is it odd that I think of and pray for the victimizer(s), because the emptiness in their soul, the loneliness, the darkness....it is scary to imagine how cold on the inside that feels. 

But these all threaten to consume mi, so I run.