On Friday during lunch, I was volunteering at school, oblivious to the horrific, unfathomable news in Connecticut. It wasn’t until later that afternoon that I saw the headline on my phone. It took my breath away, as I’m sure it did yours. I cannot imagine how much it would hurt to lose a child, and to such evil, such senseless violence. On Saturday when I woke up, I thought about how hard it was for those parents who, if they slept at all, were waking up for the first time to their new reality. No, it wasn’t a bad dream. Their darling, beloved little one was truly gone. I’m praying for the families. May they know the special measure of grace God offers to those who suffer.
And I’m praying for their marriages as well. Grief can be isolating; it often takes a long, long time before the dense fog lifts at all. May these mothers and fathers cling to one another in their grief. May they somehow be ministers of God’s peace and comfort to each other in these dark days, where heartache is not merely an expression but a physical reality.
The Psalmist wrote that God “heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (147:3). He didn’t write that it would be instantaneous. It won’t be. He didn’t write that the scar won’t be visible. It will be.
May I be faithful in praying for these families, these marriages, these brokenhearted people in the months and years to come.