Broken, but Not Bowed
“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.”