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Black

Called again

Though I'd not expected it, the memory of 11 September 2001 is resonating deeply. I sat in stillness for a while tonight, listening to leaves rustling in the breeze. There are few words, but I am grateful for the awareness that this moment is important. It matters. I am thankful for much, and for nothing more than continuing to be in His arms.
07:02, 12 September 2001
Called


Took a table at the back of the coffeehouse this morning. Being around people is an even bigger risk today— I can hardly bear hearing people laughing or making idle chit-chat, even though I know full well that for most, it's just their way to try to deal with it all. I think it's time to be still, or wrestle honestly. I know many people are simply tired of facing it all, but don't do the dead and suffering the dishonor of pretending it didn't happen.

Today may be harder than yesterday. Like many people, I didn't start yesterday with the burden on my heart. Today is different. So far, no friends or relatives unaccounted for or worried about. It's not that, praise God. It's simply the damned weight of it all.

I think I'll resent the return to normalcy, even though it might seem to be what is needed and best. After something like this, I wonder if we're called back to our old lives. Could we instead be called into better ones, trading our amusements and annoyances for true joy and real sorrow?

Let us be honest, for a change, with ourselves and with others. Let us deal with our brokenness, our powerlessness, our need, and stop pretending. Let us grasp tightly to faith, or mourn its absence; let us be comforted, sharing the hope we have, and seek the hope we still need. Let us stop withholding love and stop running from the God who loves us, never letting the fact that we don't understand keep us from His waiting arms.

Time is too short, life too precious, for us to fail to come into this new life today. I pray that we would each see the Way.

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