A Word on the Boston Marathon

I heard about the Boston Marathon tragedy sitting home alone. I had just tweeted something humorous to a friend. And then news hit. And then more. All of a sudden the news of this horrible, unbelievable tragedy flooded my screen. I scoured the internet for updates, more news, names of those injured. I sat. I waited. It slowed. I went and did the dishes, waiting for someone, anyone to come home.

My family all accounted for, we went about our business, discussed it at the dinner table, had our usual Monday night family evening, went to bed, got up, lived the day.

Today I spent some time packing some old things away and also some time with my dad having him teach me something about cars.

As I’ve had a little over 24 hours to think and read and mourn a little I’m not sure what I can say other than I am grateful that I am never alone. I am grateful that none of us are ever alone.

I’m not even going to pretend that I could comprehend the sadness of losing a loved one or seeing a loved one so injured as I imagine what the horror of being in Boston yesterday could have been. But I do know that those who ran the Boston Marathon woke up to live the day. The race has long been a symbol of strength, courage, and endurance and I think those virtues will live on too even in the face of the unthinkable.

And even more so, the virtues of charity, kindness, and hope…they seem to be living the day too.

 

 

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