It's hard to talk about joy when the events of Friday still haunt.
I heard about it on Facebook when I returned home from my errands. It didn't seem real until I saw the news coverage. I could only bear watch a little bit of it.
First graders. Dear God.
I couldn't write down any found joys that day. It didn't feel respectful, although while I had debated whether or not to curl up under a blanket or instead continue with the day's plan of some Christmas baking... I decided those heaven-arrived children would much rather have cookies.
That doesn't make a whole lot of sense, I know, but I thought subdued normal would be better than giving up on the day entirely. Surrendering to dwelling on the trauma seemed like a win for darkness. (As I did the same on 9/11, I'm pretty sure this is my coping mechanism for horrors. Everyone handles such things differently.)
I prayed and continue to pray for them all: the little ones and their teachers in heaven, their parents, the surviving children and their families, the whole community.
It is hard to talk about joy when horrible things happen.
But I think we must talk about God's gifts, the small joys of daily living. (Even the Presiding Bishop says so.) And we must search for ways to be a light to others, to bring hope, to bring our "fruits of repentance" as John the Baptist called for in Sunday's reading (Luke 3:7-18). The time for silence, for apathy, is at an end. For me, at least.
And so, these gifts:
1,080. playing with wool roving
1,081. slicing mushrooms
1,082. one dog puking mostly water, the other dancing in it.
1,083. "December" (a visual meditation)
1,086. dancing to Christmas tunes at chair yoga
1,087. love is God's glory (John 11:32-44)
1,088. dancing Colbert-style to Christmas carols while making dinner
1,089. eggshell piece found in dough
1,090. heavy rain falling
1,091. a dog who "hides" with me in bed, rather than go out in the pouring rain
1,092. functional map app for iOS6!
1,093. chatting with Dad on Skype
1,094. singing Advent Lauds
1,095. giggling over the difficult to pronounce names in today's Isaiah reading
1,096. ham and good company
1,097. tears during sermon. What will my fruits of repentance be?
1,098. "Prepare ye the way of the Lord"
Am linking this up to Ann Voskamp's "multitudes on Mondays" (or will as soon as it goes up!)