I admit I was trying not to be affected.

I admit that I have avoided watching the news for even a second the past few days.

I admit that I had no desire to see the faces of the children who were harmed.

I admit that I didn’t shed a single tear in response to what I did hear.

I admit that I picked my children up from school without a single fear of them not being there.

I admit that I will send them to school tomorrow with the same heart.

I admit that I feel so far removed, so unable to do anything at all.

I admit that I went shopping yesterday for the shear fun of it and didn’t for a single second think about the parents who are mourning.

I admit that I was annoyed by the faces of the children that did show up in my facebook stream because a friend had ‘liked’ them.

I admit I frittered my time away on facebook and instagram adding little hearts to pictures of my friends having perfectly blissful days.

I admit that I felt resentment towards those who felt like they should hug their kids tighter tonight.

I admit that I have had at least 7 drafts written up to simply say something about this tragedy because it needs to be acknowledged.

I admit that I was avoiding acknowledging it.

And then I looked.  At little blue-eyed babies with apple round cheeks and little baby toothed grins.  And I stared into the eyes of the one who took their lives.  And I read the accounts and I saw the photos and the terrified little faces.  And the mama’s weeping.  And candles being lit.  And teddy bears set up all in a row.  And the tears began to flow.

Here’s what I know.  I can busy myself to death with things that don’t matter.  I can hide from the truth of what’s out there and carry on my merry way.  I can guard my heart from feeling any sort of feeling.  But I know with absolute certainty that is not okay.  Because I can’t grieve with those who grieve if I don’t know.  And I can’t pray unceasing prayers if I don’t know who needs them.  And I can’t understand what it means for the earth to be groaning if I don’t lift my head up and look straight into the world and see the decay.

I remember moments before I birthed my third baby I looked up into my husbands eyes and I pleaded with him.  I can’t do this anymore.  It was too much.  Too intense.  I couldn’t bear not one more second.

The doctor looked at me and said, “Two more pushes and your done.”  He felt like my saviour.

Suddenly, knowing that their was an end near meant that I could carry on.  One second before I had thrown my hands up and uttered no more through tears and pleas.

I feel that way again, in this moment.  Except I’m not looking into my husbands eyes because this one, well, it’s beyond him.  I’m looking up and crying to my dear saviour, no more.  We can’t take anymore.

No more babies being killed in utero or out.  No more bombings and landmines and planes flying into buildings.  No more famine or drought or bloated little bellies.  No more guns and no more selfishness.  No more Kings calling out to slaughter anyone under two and no more government officials saying that it’s a fetus and not a child.  No more children being taken, no more abuse against those who are helpless, no more stock piling our home with cheap crap while others work in slave conditions so we can have it.  No more, dear Jesus, I can’t go on anymore.  Come, Lord Jesus.  Come….

Yet God in His great mercy has given us the words of the greatest doctor.  Two more pushes and your done.

For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.  And not only the creation, but we our selves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.  For in the hope we were saved.  Now hope that is seen is not hope.  For who hopes for what he sees?  But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.  Romans 8:  22-25

There is hope.  We can’t see it but it’s there.  Wait for it with readiness.  It’s just a few pushes away.

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