My heart is
breaking. There seems
to be wave upon wave of emotion crashing over me, weighing me down.
Even though
it causes me anger and frustration, I cannot seem to stop watching the
news. I’m not sure what I am looking
for. It’s not like I am going to stumble
across breaking news that humanity has suddenly turned a corner for the good.
I am only
going to find more heartbreaking stories.
More stories
of hatred and violence.
More stories
of lives shattered.
More stories
of husbands that will never come home.
And now
there are reports of celebrations. Two
NYPD officers were sitting in their patrol car when they were gunned down
execution style. And there are people
celebrating!
I watch the
news and I am angry. I see the media
scrambling to place blame. I see the
story turning into a political grudge-match.
I see thousands of horrendous comments on social media praising the
gunman’s actions. It makes me sick with
anger.
But more
than that, I am filled with a soul-jarring sorrow.
Because the part of the story that reaches
down into the depths of my being is the part that cannot be found on the
news. It is the story of the
families. Those wives and children and
mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and all the others who love those
men for who they were. The tragic story
may be in the headlines for now, but the families are the ones who have to live
the rest of their lives with the empty space no one else can ever fill.
Tonight, a
wife will go to bed and hug the pillow next to her that still smells like her
husband.
Tonight, a
son will cry himself to sleep as he tries to comprehend that his dad will never
be around to teach him how to become a man.
Tonight--the
first of many such nights--the families will weep and scream until there are no
more tears and their voices are hoarse, then they will weep some more.
Most people
who watched the news today will go back to their normal lives tomorrow. Within a month, many will have forgotten. Even if this event adds more fuel to the
already blazing tensions in this country, this day merely signifies another
event, another story for most. But for
those families, this day will forever be that tragic, defining moment of their
lives. Everything in their lives from
now on will fall into one of two categories: before 12-20-14, or after.
Tonight, I
am asking that you remember these families not just tonight, but tomorrow night
and the next and the next. I am asking
that you lift them up to our Father in Heaven who sees all and who comforts us
in all our troubles. I am asking that
you pray for God’s transcending peace to fill them in the many difficult days
to come.
And I have
one more thing to ask of you.
I know you
have heard it before, but I cannot emphasize it enough: please go out of your way to thank a police
officer, to encourage them and their families.
With all the hatred and anger and violence directed towards the police
right now, a word of thanks and encouragement goes a long way.
For all of
us along the thin blue line know that tomorrow the news story could be about
us.
