Times like these

"...I personally believe in the eternity of the soul and I believe that she will see her son again someday" Rabbi Shaul Praver recalls his words to a grieving mother whose son was a victim of the Sandy Hook shooting.
 I did not actually hear this quote said, but instead read it on my friend G.'s FB status and had the immediate thought of "Amen to that".
Because out of all the swirling comments surrounding the events in Connecticut, USA, on Friday, this to me was perhaps the most comforting.
The eternity of the soul.
God. (remember Him?)
Faith.
Hope.
Charity.
All those words we (sometimes) so casually throw around, that, in times like these, are a balm for a troubled heart, a worried soul, a confused mind.

You've heard me say it all the time on this blog, I describe our world as this revolving-door planet, one that we all must share, as peacefully as we can. In times like these, it's easy to forget that in order to foster the kind of world we want, revolving door or not, we must be, as Ghandi so gracefully put it, "the change we want to see in the world".

I, like many others I'm sure, attended church this weekend, as I so often do, my own balm when my soul is worried. The priest, like many others I'm sure, had amended his sermon to include thoughts on the tragedy that has, I hope, affected enough people that maybe some real change could be enacted after this type of shattering event. He talked eloquently about how we start each day with a certain mood, a viewpoint, and after Friday's event, he talked about his own plummeting mood, his own grim feelings after hearing "the news".  I sat in the church pew with my mother and my seven-year-old niece.  I held my niece's hand.  I thought about how my recent visits to church have found me blanketed in my own troubles, my own selfish thoughts, and I felt myself unfurling a bit as I realized that my prayers and thoughts had not been self driven as they usually are. They were turned outward, sending out kind thoughts in the general direction of Connecticut and to all grieving people everywhere.
There you are, living your little life, and there it is, this grief, coming at you like a mass, like a fog, like an actual physical thing, sucking you in, seizing you up.
And your mood plummets.

Yea, I've read alot of the news stories.
Yea, I admit to being as seduced as anyone else is, asking the unanswerable question (why?) over and over again. Hungering for someone, someone in charge, someone with authority, to give me some direction on this.
Nothing comes.
There is no Why to this. There is no How. There is no reasoning, there is no sense to make.
I'm just one person, talking like many others, about an event that is stunning in its dehumanization.
And I have no answers.
All I have is this; 
Kindness. (to others. to yourself)
Gratitude. (remember all that you have. It wasn't just snatched away like it was for the Connecticut parents)
Selflessness (get out of your own way)
Family and friends (they are all, really, that we have, that we need in this life. They alone are what keep us going in times like these)
Love, love, and more love.
Because that's the only thing that is going to get us through.


"You can take all this, take it away, I'd still have it all. 
'Cause I've climbed the tree of life, and that is why
No longer scared if I fall"
Madonna, Nothing Fails.