My heart aches today. My mind is troubled. My soul is weary. The state of our country is in utter disarray. I woke up this morning to the unfortunate habitual yet uncanny news of another mass shooting which took place on American soil.
12 lifeless bodies.
12 people to never feel the dew on a spring morning.
12 people to never have sun gleam across their skin.
12 people missing from their respective dinner tables on Thanksgiving.
12 people whose dreams and aspirations faded once their eyes closed one final time.
I once heard that 12 represents a complete divine arrangement. What makes this incident a complete divine arrangement when 12 families have been maliciously tattered and left in despair?
This incident coupled with the results of Tuesday’s election tends to leave me feeling despondent.
It’s like we brush aside the disappointments of the past; to kiss the cheek of today with optimism of a brighter tomorrow to get spat on by disappointment rending it hard to wipe off the opposition. A harsh reminder of the struggle that is not only real but ubiquitous.
I will admit it’s getting rather challenging to put my hands in the hands of the man from Galilee when calamity is all I see. Faith is almost obsolete or dare I say anecdotal with wars all around, the disenfranchisement of others that don’t inherently fit the MAGA mold and leaders who are unfit to head families let alone lead a nation.
Nevertheless, with all that seems to be crumbing around us, I hold on to a piece of hope.
Hope for permanent revolution and not temporal alterations.
Hope that we will get this thing right for this generation and those to follow.
Hope that this rain won’t succeed in its attempt to wash away our souls.
Hope that mankind will place more value on human life instead of capitalism and politics.
Or hope that this is a lifetime nightmare that I’ll awake from by morning.