We are “mourning with those who mourn” and grieving for the losses of Marathon Monday. On a day usually heavily celebrated by those from all over the world who come to Boston to take on their own personal challenge of completing the iconic Boston Marathon and those who accompany them for support, the unthinkable has again happened. Someone with their own personal agenda turned joy to fear and grief in moments. Bombs were placed at congregated sites with the obvious intent of hurting as many people as possible.
My first response was impotent fury that once more something innocent and good was being assaulted. I thought of 9/11. Just ordinary people doing everyday things such as going to work or shopping or eating out unaware of the nightmare about to happen. The slaughter at Sandy Hook Elementary was an assault on the most innocent of us, our small children happily going through their day at school when suddenly horror came. Churches and temples and mosques have all been attacked. Good people doing good things when the evil came upon them.
And now our sports events have been targeted. Families and friends and strangers gathered together to cheer on the 27,000 plus people who took on the mammoth marathon challenge. It is a day in which strangers are friends because all are there for the same reasons. People, who have planned, prepared and sacrificed for months, even years to make this pilgrimage. It is a day usually full of triumph and joy.
This year the usual jubilance at the finish line was replaced with terror, screaming, blood, bodies and body parts. It was a scene not unlike what one finds on a battle field. Confusion and disorientation filled the air side by side with the smoke and the carnage. And heard all around the world was a collective gasp of shock.
Within moments as the smoke cleared we saw something else. We witnessed an orderly exodus from the area. There was none of the panicked shoving or trampling that might be expected in such situations. Parents with children were moving away from the scene at the same time others rushed towards it. Strangers helping strangers in whatever ways they could. Some led or carried the wounded out. Others literally gave the shirts off their backs to stop the life blood flowing in the street. The response of “regular” folks was overwhelming.
First responders, too, were on scene in what seemed like minutes. If we hadn’t known better it looked like it had been well rehearsed. In fact, it is my belief that the instant outpouring of aid is one of the things that kept this day from being the massacre it was probably meant to be.
Indeed it is these types of responses...people caring for people…that help us through the emotional trauma. It is another proof that good will always win no matter what. Compassion is love in action. It is what made the day a triumph of another sort. It is it a triumph of the heart.
Facebook was passing around a quote from Mr. Rogers, “When I was a little boy and saw scary things on the news, my mother told me to look for the helpers. She said there would always be helpers.” She was right. If the day ever comes that there are not then and only then will evil have won. Let’s pray that day never comes. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
My first response was impotent fury that once more something innocent and good was being assaulted. I thought of 9/11. Just ordinary people doing everyday things such as going to work or shopping or eating out unaware of the nightmare about to happen. The slaughter at Sandy Hook Elementary was an assault on the most innocent of us, our small children happily going through their day at school when suddenly horror came. Churches and temples and mosques have all been attacked. Good people doing good things when the evil came upon them.
And now our sports events have been targeted. Families and friends and strangers gathered together to cheer on the 27,000 plus people who took on the mammoth marathon challenge. It is a day in which strangers are friends because all are there for the same reasons. People, who have planned, prepared and sacrificed for months, even years to make this pilgrimage. It is a day usually full of triumph and joy.
This year the usual jubilance at the finish line was replaced with terror, screaming, blood, bodies and body parts. It was a scene not unlike what one finds on a battle field. Confusion and disorientation filled the air side by side with the smoke and the carnage. And heard all around the world was a collective gasp of shock.
Within moments as the smoke cleared we saw something else. We witnessed an orderly exodus from the area. There was none of the panicked shoving or trampling that might be expected in such situations. Parents with children were moving away from the scene at the same time others rushed towards it. Strangers helping strangers in whatever ways they could. Some led or carried the wounded out. Others literally gave the shirts off their backs to stop the life blood flowing in the street. The response of “regular” folks was overwhelming.
First responders, too, were on scene in what seemed like minutes. If we hadn’t known better it looked like it had been well rehearsed. In fact, it is my belief that the instant outpouring of aid is one of the things that kept this day from being the massacre it was probably meant to be.
Indeed it is these types of responses...people caring for people…that help us through the emotional trauma. It is another proof that good will always win no matter what. Compassion is love in action. It is what made the day a triumph of another sort. It is it a triumph of the heart.
Facebook was passing around a quote from Mr. Rogers, “When I was a little boy and saw scary things on the news, my mother told me to look for the helpers. She said there would always be helpers.” She was right. If the day ever comes that there are not then and only then will evil have won. Let’s pray that day never comes. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
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