tragedy

The mail came Tuesday. I’m not sure why it surprised me, but it did.

I’m always shocked when the mail arrives after a tragedy. I want it to stop. Maybe as an act of reverence. Maybe because I want more time to mourn. The mail reminds me life moves fast, too fast.

I know as months pass other horrific stories will become newsworthy, and even if we swear we will not forget, we do.

I lived in Littleton, Colorado when the Columbine tragedy occurred. I remember sitting  less than a quarter of a mile away listening to updates on a radio and screaming sirens. I witnessed the world swoop in to hold Littleton. Eventually, I saw the cameras shut off and turn away.

When we think of serving others after a tragedy, we tend to think of physical ways to help, and that’s good. Often money is a need and Americans reach deep and give, but today, I want to challenge you to pick a name of one of the many impacted by the explosions at the Boston Marathon, and I ask you to pray.

Call him or her by name.

Serve families by offering prayers.

Serve strangers by calling out to God.

When all words sound cliché, serve by praying.

 Image credit.

 

 

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Amy L. Sullivan
SERVE Editor Word lover. Book devourer. Music addict. Amy is a Northern girl who found herself living in the South. She drinks sweet tea, turns her nose up at okra, and attempts to tell her daughters "yella" isn't a color.

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