Trying to Make Sense of a Tragedy

As news of the Boston Marathon explosions sunk in yesterday, I watched my Twitter and Facebook feeds explode with a range of emotions. Anger. Grief. Shock. Fear. Disbelief. Worry. Dejection.

Coming so close on the heels of the Newtown shootings, what happened yesterday seems even more difficult to bear. And yet for precisely this reason, it was clear that we were all a little more prepared this time around. Blog posts detailing how to explain a national tragedy to our children, were already written and ready for reposting. Words of wisdom from celebrities and Christian authors– many helpfully captioned over a meaningful photo for easy sharing– were reblogged and repinned and reTweeted all over again.

Everyone, it seemed, was in a great rush to explain to everyone else how they felt about what had happened. Some used it as proof that we live in a fallen world. Others claimed it proved that we need to crack down even more on terrorism. Some even wrote that it showed that increased gun control won’t put an end to terrible violence in America. But to me, yesterday’s onslaught of words and pictures and opinions online were as overwhelming as the 24/7, in-your-face news coverage on television. And at some point, for my own good, I had to turn everything off.

I had no words yesterday that would magically make sense of what had happened. Nothing to make it all better. Instead, I stayed silent. To process. To pray. Today, after a restless night’s sleep, I’m writing about it, but reluctantly because I still have no platitudes to offer, no reassurances for my children or anyone else that nothing like this will ever happen again. I only know one thing in times like these– There is a tremendous amount of good in this world. And there is a tremendous amount of evil. And both are part of the terms of our existence.

In the days to come, there will be countless op-eds. And investigations. Committee hearings. New laws. New codes. New standards. New safeguards. Despite all this, something awful will happen again anyway. We all know it’s true.

It’s enough to make me want to put my family in the car and drive somewhere way out west where we’ll live like the Ingalls family, surviving off the land, isolated and happy and dancing in our homespun clothes around a crackling fire while Dennis plays a quaint fiddle tune. But the truth is, bad things happened to the Ingalls, too.

There’s just no getting away from it, is there?

So maybe, the best thing we can do in the face of this is cling to each other, in real life and online. The best we can do is try to counter the bad out there with the good– with our good– just as we did after 9/11, and after Newtown. Maybe we can put aside our arguments and our anger and our explanations and our positions and remember what’s really important– each other.

Maybe we can stop talking about it so much and start doing something about it, either directly (I love the idea of donating to one of the Boston Marathon runners’ causes on this page) or indirectly, through acts of kindness to the people around us right here at home. I think everyone could use a friendly smile or show of support right now.

Yesterday, as soon as I heard the news, I remembered reading that my blog and Facebook friend, Judith Ursitti, was running in the marathon. I checked her Facebook page and was relieved to read a post from a friend letting everyone know that she was okay. A few hours later, Judith posted this:

There are angels among us. A woman from Newton took me into her home today, gave me soup and green tea to stop my shaking and let me use her phone to call Andy and let him know where I was. Kindness matters. I will never forget her.

This is the kind of thing that gives me hope. Purpose. And a reason to soldier on.

There will always be tremendous amount of evil in this world.

But there will also be a tremendous amount of good.

Remember that.

Image via Smi23le/Flickr