I lie awake at night afraid to close my eyes. I’m an insomniac by nature, but now I have a reason. I know what I will see, what I will hear: the Bataclan at night with the explosions destroying the lives inside, or worse – the aftermath. So, instead I lie staring at the ceiling. Slowly, my chest starts to compress and I feel like I’m trying to breathe underwater. Enough!
I climb out of bed trying not to disturb the blanket of dogs surrounding me – only one of them is mine. The rest are a normal fixture here with my parents, but mostly they’re a comfort on night like this. I smile at them as they snore. Jug lifts his head, decides he should follow. Then we head for the kitchen. In my “real” life, this is when I’d tie on my running shoes and head out the door, but that hasn’t been a possibility for months. So, instead, I head for the coffee maker.
I curl into an armchair with my cup of caffeine, and stare at the darkened television. What is happening here? I read a quote yesterday that said something like, ‘Christians should be reacting to our world with compassion and distress.’ I hit the roof. Well, sort of, but why? I certainly feel compassionate and definitely distressed, but my first reaction was horror. I think I might still be there, and I’m a little concerned if there are Christians who have lost the ability to feel that emotion.
I scroll through FB and I see postings about how we aren’t angry enough about Beirut or the Russian airliner, and I want to cry. I don’t think it’s that we’ve lost our feelings for Russians or the Lebanese; I think the human heart can only withstand so much devastation at one time.
I’m tired. I feel like I’m ready to shatter, not because I’m afraid. The terrorists don’t win; I know the end of the story. However, I’m having a difficult time reconciling my “Westerness” and our way of life with what is going on in the rest of the world. Don’t get me wrong, I feel like even with the bumps in my road, I’ve lived a very blessed and privileged life, but somehow that life feels callous. I listen to the way I speak or the things I text casually, and sometimes I am horrified. Just yesterday I told someone that a simple 2 hour drive was the longest 2 hours of my life, and immediately images flashed before me – the twin towers, opening my front door in Arlington, VA, on 9/11 and seeing the smoke from the Pentagon, the Bataclan – and I wished I could delete that text, delete that thought. How dare I? How insensitive could I be?
Over the next few days, these feelings of horror will fade, and I will mellow into simple compassion. I will be able to close my eyes again, breathe again. But not now. Instead, I find peace in the One who brings peace. I pray for all of us. I pray for wisdom for our leaders, hope for our children, courage for our soldiers. Maybe you’ll join me.
The Unexpected Life 