We made plans for a really wonderful weekend — and that’s very close to what we had. From a condo full of friends and their toddlers, to a morning spent with our newborn niece, there was so much to love about the last two days.
But life rarely follows our plans, our wishes, or our wants exactly.
And sometimes, life just doesn’t make sense. Sometimes, it guts us. It breaks our hearts.
I have nothing especially profound to say about Friday’s attacks in Paris. Nothing particularly eloquent or new or thoughtful. But I know this violence — the murders and injuries caused– and the resulting terror and fear and anger and heartbreak are real, and are felt by so many. I also know there are places, not so far away from Paris, where the terror of Friday night is felt every night. And every day.
And this doesn’t make sense. Because we cannot make sense of the senseless.
I think it’s only human to default to fear and anger, but if we can lean on hope and compassion — even in the smallest ways — I want to (and frankly, have to) believe that will help in healing our fractured world.
When life doesn’t make sense, I buy flowers. Or in the case of this weekend, huge branches of seeded eucalyptus. When life doesn’t make sense, I spend as much time as possible with friends and family. When life doesn’t make sense, I try to let a few more cars go in traffic. And I try really hard to not give anyone the finger, even if they’ve just cut me off in the rotary. When life doesn’t make sense, I carve out space to be quiet and alone. When life doesn’t make sense, I clean my closet in a (somewhat futile) attempt to create order. When life doesn’t make sense, I’m extra careful about what I consume (more chocolate, less 24 hr. news). When life doesn’t make sense, I pray (like, more than usual).
Because even a little more peace in this world has to count for something.
Also On Tap for Today:
How are you making a bit more peace this week?