Along with millions of others, I was deeply saddened yesterday upon hearing the news of three bombs during the Boston marathon. This evening, through Facebook, I saw the photograph of Martin Richard holding a handwritten sign that states: "No more hurting people. Peace."
He was the eight year old victim who was waiting for his Dad to pass that finish line.
I am stunned when I read things like this. My heart sank and then I felt it open even wider.
At the time of the first explosion, 2:50pm, I had sent an email to a friend. I had in fact titled it 2:50pm.
Life is that small. Yet actions are so incredibly wide and varied.
At 2:50pm you have my tiny act of friendship and at the same time a heartless act of terrorism.
We have no control over one another nor indeed any thing. Health permitting, we have every control over our own actions, and all I know from this much grief, is that I choose to care deeply about the humanity that crosses my very small path. That if I hear a heart open and tell me that everything is going be alright despite the current pain, then there is a reason for me to make that connection.
(Yes Betty, I mean you.)
Some pairs of eyes are meant to shine toward one another and there is a joy and a mystery to that.
Despite my rare, pointless moments of longing to jump away from this life, I am reminded to be bold and brave. To continue to reach out with curiosity for connection. To see where that takes us and if it all makes sense in the end.
There is a reason why our hands eventually open. I hope that our hearts will always have the strength to do the same. Perhaps it is our duty to try.
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