The Day After Tragedy

The day after a tragedy is the worst. I hate that today is a beautiful day outside. It doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel right that I had fun last night with my friends or that I woke up to sunshine coming through my blinds. It doesn't feel right that I lay in bed or that I get up and go do my necessary tasks for the day. It doesn't feel right to laugh during the day but it doesn't feel right to grieve either.  It doesn't feel right that we discuss foreign policy or shout about politics. It doesn't feel right that the best we can do is change our profile picture to one tinted with France's flag or create a hashtag showing our support, especially if we do something similar for something as trivial as a red Starbucks cup. It doesn't feel right that my small world will go about its ordinary routine but for over 120 families, their worlds have been drastically changed forever. It doesn't feel right that those who lived through the attacks will carry the constant fear and panic of yesterday's events for the rest of their lives. It doesn't feel right that we pray only for Paris when an attack from ISIS happened in Lebanon on Thursday where 40 more lives were lost, 40 more families are grieving. 

Our world is in turmoil and there is little we can do. 

But we must do something. We must. 

We must pray for our world. 

That light would pierce the darkness. That peace would become the norm rather than war and violence. That hurts would be healed. That grace and justice are shown where they are needed. That hearts are softened. That injustices will be made right. That death does not get the final say. That God's glory and love show, even through tragedy. 

We must love true justice

"Love that is not just is not love, and justice that is not loving is not just." Justice that fights for those who are different than us. Justice that fights for those who have no will to fight. Justice that fights for those who have no way to fight. Justice that fights for changed hearts of those who oppress. Justice that stems from love. 

We must be a neighbor. 

As Professor Wanner recently pointed out to our Ethics class, the question is not "who is my neighbor" but rather "am I being a neighbor". To be a neighbor to those who are hurting. To mourn with the mourning. To feed the hungry. To clothe the naked. To love the orphan and the widow. To show up when we are needed. To be kindness where there is hatred. To love those close to us and far away, even when it is difficult. 

And when attacks happen it is easy  to respond out of anger because it is valid to be angry. I am angry. I am angry that a group values human life so little that they take it so easily and without remorse. I am angry that families are missing loved ones due to someone else's choices. I am angry that there are minds forever scarred by flashbacks and panic. I am angry that we can't change the past or take away the hurt or do anything to instantly heal the hearts or the country devastated. I am angry that social media is our way of showing support. I am angry that some who say #PrayforParis do nothing of the sort. I am angry that I am angry at those people because I am not better than them. I am angry that I forget to pray for our world. I am angry that I do not act justly in all or even most circumstances. I am angry that I fail to be a neighbor to those in my everyday life and those on the other side of the world who need help in times like this. 

But my anger does nothing. 

It doesn't reverse the deaths or the injuries. 

It doesn't defeat ISIS. 

It doesn't transform me into a neighbor. 

It doesn't make me look more like love. 

So I must act against my anger. 

I must pray for my own heart to be changed. 

I must pray for the world.

I must act in a way that changes my heart.

I must act in a way that changes the world

Our world doesn't seem right today. But one day, justice will be served, wrong will be made right, hearts will be whole. 

Until then, we pray. 

You are a Light

I always get really weird when people give me compliments or say kind things to me. I usually don't make eye contact and I say "Thank You" in probably the most awkward way. Or I giggle uncomfortably. Or I probably blush and stumble upon the simplest of sentences. Accepting a compliment is a skill that I'm still working on, or it's more like  I'm going to start working on it.

Anyways, there's a kind phrase that I've heard more than once since school has begun and it baffles me every time I hear it.

"Marilyn, you are a light."

What?
Why?
How?

Have you seen me recently? I've absolutely been a wreck.

I feel unworthy of being called a light when I feel broken; when I feel like there is nothing but darkness inside of me and surrounding me.

And I know that those are just perceptions, but so often they feel so very real.

I have a difficult time recognizing why someone would call me a light in their life.
But then I think about the people who are a light in my life...

You are a light when you make others laugh.
You are a light when you whole heartedly laugh.
You are a light when you choose kind words.
You are a light when you choose honesty.
You are a light when you face darkness.
You are a light when you choose to see beyond the darkness.
You are a light when you choose to be vulnerable.
You are a light when you choose to be a refuge.
You are a light when you admit that things might not be okay but one day they will be.

You are a light when you choose to see the light in others.

You are a light when you choose to show grace. 

You are a light when you choose to love. 

You are a light when you choose to live life unapologetically. 

I don't realize that I can be a light when I don't feel like I am capable of being a light. Other people probably feel the same way about themselves. Actually, I know that other people feel the same way. I read this quote once that said when we believe that because we aren't perfect we can't be loved, it's like saying a broken window is incapable of letting sunlight in and warming a room. 

A broken window can still let light in. 

An imperfect and struggling person can still shine. 

Thank you for seeing the light in me, for believing that I am still capable of shining... Especially when I don't see it or believe it.  

Thank you for being a light in my life, for choosing to shine despite your darkness. Thank you for being a light, even if you don't think you are one.  

You are a light, continue to shine.