These times are strange for everyone, I think, but in different ways.

       For many the events of last week seem unreal and the reverberations from the blasts continue, catching us in ways we could not have imagined.  Hearing the words “going out for a run” from a daughter, a friend asking if you want to “head into town for some shopping,” or lacing up your own sneakers, heading out for a walk or a run along the beach.  I had one of those moments today as I sat outside of the Haverhill High School pool finishing my coffee before heading in to teach swim.  It’s a parking lot I know so well.  For several years I pulled in there with my car full of my own children all ready to compete in swim meets, the car full of donations for the bake sale and the building about to be swarming with swimmers aged 6 to 18, coaches, officials, volunteers and families and friends eager to cheer them on.  Now, I arrive 2 weekdays to teach swim and some Saturdays to coach, and occasionally to walk the track.  At times the parking lot is full, especially in good weather as athletes and families head over to the adjacent track and fields with lacrosse sticks, soccer balls or just eager smiles.  This morning as I sipped my coffee I thought “wow – what if it happened here?” My mind stopped imagining the scene as fast as I could.  My own imaginings making me shudder.  Strange start to an ordinary day.

     These times are strange for everyone, I think, but in different ways.  Strange for those of us for whom violence is such an anomaly – at least in terms of what we see and experience first-hand each day.  Strange too for those who watch on and say “Do you finally get it?  This IS what life is like for us, all the time?” And those who say “Why all the attention and resources on this slice of violence?  Is it the color of the faces of most of those injured? It cannot be that it’s because it’s in Boston, because our children were lost here too. They weren’t running a marathon though.  They were walking home from school.”

     And strange as well for those who wonder “Did we fail this young man somehow?” This is the question that some will keep inside for fear of seeming unsympathetic to the victims or worse, traitors.  And it is a question that lived with me this weekend as I felt my heart fill with hope watching our youth sharing themselves with brand new faces at the Springfield UU Congregation, working together with those youth to improve a stretch of waterfront, leaning in to conversations with people fishing for dinner along the river, competing with heart and soul in a sing-off around a campfire and offering their reflections to a weekend of bonding and service.  On my late-night drive back to a city just beginning to express a sigh of relief I wondered “Where were we with this young man? The young man who shot up a school room in Connecticut? And others? “  Maybe we were with him and it just didn’t matter.  Or, maybe not.  We can’t know all the answers.  But I pray we don’t let vengeance or fear of not seeming ‘caring’ or ‘patriotic’ enough get in the way of asking the questions and seeking answers that may well lead to a safer and more just tomorrow ~