Early last week, I heard a news story that I just can’t shake. Two men sort of cut each other off when merging lanes on a highway, and one went ballistic. The first guy opened fire and killed the second guy’s four year old daughter. Just got mad and boom, a child is dead. All this over traffic.
I simply don’t understand. I wonder if this murderer has ever experienced grief. I simply can’t believe that if he has felt what I have felt he would do anything that could intentionally take a life. How could you purposefully want to make someone feel the way I have felt?
My heart is also heavy for the families I see floating on overcrowded, flimsy rafts across the Mediterranean Sea. How fortunate we are here in America. Well, unless you happen to cut the wrong person off on I-95.
I watch the stories on ABC, and I see the faces, and I ache for them, until the newscast is over. Then, I go meet a friend for an overpriced dinner out.
What in the hell is going on? How can I eat Chinese takeout while checking Facebook when there are so many people in the world who are hurting the way I did several years ago? How can I think about excessively celebrating Christmas when there are folks all around, even in my hometown, who don’t have the money to pay their rent? How can I toss out half a sandwich because I filled up on a sleeve of sour cream and onion Pringles when 3.5 million children die each year because they DON’T HAVE ENOUGH FOOD TO EAT?
And each of those 3.5 million has a face, a name, an individual personality. Each one has a mother and a father who misses them dearly. Each is someone’s Lisa.
Day after day after day someone in my community dies needlessly – from a gunshot or a drunk driver or domestic abuse, and I just don’t know what to do about it. Everyday thousands of people, thousands, die in places like Syria.
We have to do something. We have to do something now.