I have seen lately the fragility of life. Not just the bodily life, although I did experience that in the last weeks as well. But life as an institution, life as an existence, life as a path, a road to be traveled. I consider myself privileged to have a God who loves me as I am, a husband who isn’t far behind, and a daughter who looked at me today and said, “My mommy … I kiss you,” and a dog that loves to be scratched and petted and really could probably live on love alone. I have a job that I love, that daily helps me fulfill my mission for God, and am surrounded by those who love and serve the Lord. I am abundantly blessed and sure, I work hard at it (sometimes harder than others, but always working) but in the end, the Father has laid before me a feast of abundant joy and hope, not just here but in eternity. But around me, I see the fallenness of man.
So often it makes me long for it to be over – not this life, but this brokenness. But we carry on, don’t we? We keep marching on. We make ourselves numb to what’s going on around us, because this is the only way we can cope – it is the only way our ravaged hearts can keep beating without weeping. We make ourselves think it’s just not that bad, that we just have to live with it. The numbness is better than feeling the pain, so we accept it. Because if we feel too much, it might hurt. Or if we’re hurting others, we make ourselves numb to their pain, because if we feel their pain, we might not do what we want to anymore. The fight between pain and numbness is never ending.
And I wonder why I’m one of the lucky ones, who doesn’t have to be in the fight.

