Broken, but Not Bowed
from
Boston
“I think I’m going to run next year.
Seems like the right thing to do.”
I hate starting the
day feeling broken. My heart is heavy and my eyes brim with tears as I ponder
the events at yesterday’s Boston Marathon. I don’t know yet, nor does anyone,
whose hand(s) lit the fuse that killed three and injured well over a hundred on
a sunny Monday in Boston. Patriot’s Day should have been a celebration.
Instead, yet another tragic American scene burns in our memory.
That memory is
fresh. I feel the sting. And I feel the hate. So much hate. It numbs me to
consider the depth of depravity that fuels such despicable activity. What can I
do about it? What can anyone do? We cannot predict when the next lunatic will
strike terror into our hearts and our lives. We cannot predict the time, the
event, the place. That’s what those who manufacture fear want us to remember…
that we don’t know, we won’t know when, where, how we will be hurt again.
We can predict a few
things, however. We can predict that several someones in a crowd will run
toward the danger with the aim to help, to protect, to soothe, to calm. We can
predict that several someones, like the marathoners from yesterday, will run
toward blood donation centers. We can predict that several someones will offer
juice, food, shelter, clothing. We can predict that several someones will offer
shoulders on which to lean, hands to hold, hearts to hold other hearts.
We can predict that
today, in Boston and thousands of places across America, that millions of
someones will refuse to be cowed, will refuse to be broken for long. We can
predict that Americans from sea to shining sea will stand proud and tall and be
grateful for who we are, for what we are.
We can predict that
next year on Patriot’s Day, the Boston Marathon will be held. We can predict
that thousands will enter, thousands will run. We can predict that those
runners will hold their heads high, and run with joy, determination. They will
run without fear.
I can predict that
people I know and love will line up at the starting line and begin that 26.2
mile course. I might even be there to cheer one of those runners. This morning,
my daughter shared with me: “I think I’m going to run next year. Seems like the
right thing to do.”
I can predict that
thousands upon thousands of Americans today and every day will do something
because “It seems like the right thing to do.”
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