We have work to do here
I just can't top thinking about it, can't stop doom-scrolling, can't stop just digging deeper and deeper into what is clearly a pit of worry and heartache. Worry nor heartache are not going to get me anywhere. It’s not going to help my kids, their school, or anyone else for that matter.
The more I search for an answer, or a direction, the more I have found sane, smart words that make my heart ache a little bit less. Gun reform, yes, but also how have we reached a point where mental health programs are so limited in their scope and reach that we are not reaching those who are in need. And if one in need reaches for help, they must do so furtively? Taking care of one’s WHOLE PERSON includes mental, emotional and spiritual care as well as taking care of our physical well-being.
We need to inspire and embrace compassion, peacefulness, lovingness. We must embrace the family. We must build our communities, our schools, our neighborhoods. We must watch out for one another and reach a hand to help, even if it is at a cost. Give comfort, even when you grieve. Give community when you can. Build the connections that tie us together, and allow those who need help to have the opportunities to ask for it.
Something will happen. Something has to happen. If we reach past these moments of heartbreak, and push aside the denial, we will see the overwhelming good of humanity. It’s not a political thing; it is a humanity thing.
We have work to do here.
Hymn for the hurting
Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be.
Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them.
This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. Thus while hate cannot be terminated, It can be transformed Into a love that lets us live.
May we not just grieve, but give;
May we not just ache, but act;
May our singed right to bear arms
Never blind our sight from shared harm;
May we choose our children over chaos.
May another innocent never be lost.
Maybe everything hurts,
Our hearts shadowed & strange.
But only when everything hurts
May everything change.
~ Amanda Gorman
For further reading: