Writing is usually how I process life. But I haven’t had the words to process what happened in Buffalo, and now Uvalde.
Instead of writing, I’ve cried. I’ve prayed. I’ve contacted my senators. I’ve held my children close and marveled at their innocence. I’ve wished, desperately, that the force of my love was enough to protect them.
I’ve pondered this Henri Nouwen quote, and found it to be true:
“I am beginning to see that much of praying is grieving.”