So many things, for reasons too many to name, prevent me from laying out the words that would paint the picture of life as I live it. So I grapple through, made as I am to use words, saying what I can in the ways I feel is fair.

Little lives, young lives, the ones so fragile and pure pressed by the accumulated ugliness of generations past are challenged to live as children while bearing the weight of what far surpasses their strength. It is they who bend and near break before misunderstanding eyes, under the scorn of judgment from those who have no clue as to the magnitude of what has occurred. It is the child who has no power, no voice to speak over their lives and order their days as they would choose. No, they are to buck up, smile, laugh, learn, cooperate, and comply though inside they know their world is not one of predictability, one they can relax into and trust tomorrow will likely be like today and all will be well.

Too Much. These are words I lived as a 6 year old myself trying to grasp the sorrow that filled every heart in my family over a loss too great to absorb. One who lived smiles and service, warmth, gentleness and care gone, just like that, in her thirties, victim, it was said, of her own hand, suicide. Truth unfolds over time and cannot be silenced. Truth brought to light that though her hand may have brought about the final breath, it was harshness against her accumulated over time that took her from us, and with her, so much goodness that we all so deeply needed.

There is no such thing as a personal choice that brings consequences only to oneself. Each and every choice and action made by one has far reaching impact on others, not just those in our immediate lives, but also in many lives that will come after us.. We are joined.

I thought of Adam and Eve in the garden this morning as I was walking in the cool of early morning. How well I see now how their choices came to bear on us all. The failures of one man may fall upon the shoulders of his son and then be laid upon the next as a burden heavier than was with the first. Can we ever learn???

Though hurting this morning for those dear to me, Jesus’ sweet Spirit whispered to my heart a memory of song shared with a precious baby the first time I held him in my arms. These words, so sweet to me then and even dearer now, “Jesus keep me near the cross, there a precious fountain. Free to all a healing stream, flows from Calvary’s mountain.” This is my answer and the answer for all. Jesus is able to heal all wounds, to mend what is broken, to replace confusion with peace, and sorrow with JOY. May we hold to Him as anchor and yield to Him as Lord. This is the only place where freedom breaks every chain from generations past and from the failures of our own.

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