I've been debating about posting this week at all. There's been no time for running. My thoughts are a mess, and I'm tired. So tired in fact, that I walked right into a door frame and broke my little toe.
Our community was impacted by an incident Wednesday night that took the life of one teen, hospitalized two others, and led one to detention, waiting for the court system to determine consequences for actions that hold many in disbelief. As a therapist in the schools, my job was to listen and comfort. In crisis, I'm surprisingly calm and focused. Later, now, it's the questions that plague me and cause me to become a weeping disaster at random times, including this morning's service.
As an adult, I can barely grasp the information dispensed this week, but our teens are really struggling. Why? How? What keeps each of us from doing the unthinkable, or not? How could we have been, can we be, friends and supporters of someone who could hurt so viciously? What might we have done to curtail such an incident?
These aren't new questions to me. I've worked in this field for a long time. I have been witness to personal conflict and tragedy often, and some will haunt me forever. And once again, I don't know the answers, but I sure wish that I did.