Mourning on the morning drive

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I’m finding it hard to drive to work.

I listen to NPR every morning on my drive, mostly because I think I’m too old to listen to prank calls and the ridiculousness the other stations offer. Maybe I’m becoming a curmudgeon. Regardless. But, I’m still a little getting used to hearing the news that is being told about last Friday. I’m tearing up over the news of the funerals that are taking place. Of Christmas presents already bought with no one to open them.

It’s amazing how events so far away can hit so close that you mourn for families you may never meet.

Hope is what I’m clinging to, and I’m rehearsing in my head all that I am sure of because its the best antidote of the grief I feel. Because I believe that evil exists. And I believe God has no equal, existing a before evil. And I know that a good God gave His Son in order to die at the hands of mad, crazy men, who called for his destruction. And no matter man’s attempts to guarantee safety, or my rights, I know that it is illusory. Hope clings to an empty tomb, but a tomb all the same. And faith looks forward to the destruction of all tombs.

Maranatha.

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