My heart is heavy for all the mayhem in the world. Though it's nothing new, and every day brings a conflict, personal, national or global, something about today's news of the shooting in San Bernardino sits heavy on me. I'm currently at a loss for how to articulate all the different ways we can be hurt and abused, and I feel art is the only salve because of the supernatural way it carries all our questions and uncertainty. So, here are some lyrics from a song by the band Jars of Clay (song below), which I keep typed out on my refrigerator, because it so simply illustrates a lack of answers. It acknowledges grief and failure, and somehow there's comfort in knowing we're all working uphill.
liars and fools; sons and failures thieves will always say lost and found; ailing wanderers healers always say whores and angels; men with problems leavers always say brokenhearted; separated orphans always say war creators; racial haters preachers always say distant fathers; fallen warriors givers always say pilgrim saints; lonely widows users always say fearful mothers; watchful doubters saviors always say
sometimes I cannot forgive these days, mercy cuts so deep if the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep while I lay, I dream we're better, scales were gone and faces light when we wake, we hate our brother we still move to hurt each other sometimes I can close my eyes, and all the fear that keeps me silent falls below my heavy breathing, what makes me so badly bent? we all have a chance to murder we all feel the need for wonder we still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the thunder
sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven all the times I thought to reach up all the times I had to give babies underneath their beds hospitals that cannot treat all the wounds that money causes, all the comforts of cathedrals all the cries of thirsty children - this is our inheritance all the rage of watching mothers - this is our greatest offense
oh my God oh my God oh my God