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You had several cousins there


The finish line of a race of any length brings satisfaction. Today, that was not the case in Boston. I can’t stop thinking about it. The celebration that is the Boston Marathon turned to devastation. My heart is heavy; my stomach in knots; and my smile gone missing.

I have not turned on the television. I am avoiding the newsfeeds online. Instead, I read updates posted by friends on Facebook. With each one, tears for the victims, survivors, family, and friends threaten to make an appearance. I cannot make sense of it. Why is it bothering me so much? I don’t know any of the victims. I don’t know anyone running in the race.

The explosions at the end of a race should be ones of celebration. Instead, we reach out to comfort one another. To make sense of what is happening. To wonder what our world is coming to. Sean is at war. He has had friends and brothers-at-arms hurt and killed due to explosions. While the events resonate with me each time it happens, I knew it was a possibility all along. That is what war is. The senseless maiming and killing of innocent people.

I can’t make sense of today’s incident. I don’t understand the cruelty it takes to cause harm to other people. Instead, I will do the only thing that makes sense to me when cruelty shows its evil face. I will reach out with kindness to those around me.

And then the text: You had several cousins there. There are no words.

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