And so it has come to this, God: A prayer.
You know I’m not good at praying. You know I don’t do it enough. You know I don’t always put down my fork-full of dinner when one of my kids starts in on that whole “God is great, God is good” business. But I’m going to do this anyway.
I’m not going to ask for peace. Not going to ask for strength. Not going to ask for blessings upon those people who have died or upon their families (although that would probably be nice). I just need to talk. And because I feel silly talking out loud to you — don’t judge! — I’m going to talk here, on this blog. I assume you have the Internet.
I’m angry, God. I’m not angry at you. And I’m not angry at anyone in particular. But I’m angry. I’m angry at the lack of respect for human life. I’m angry about our human biases. I’m angry that I feel helpless to do anything to affect change. I’m angry.
I’m sad, God. I’m sad that understanding, compromise, sympathy and empathy seem to have fallen by the wayside in our country. I’m sad that fear and hatred grip us tightly, relentlessly chipping away at our humanity. I’m sad that my children — everyone’s children — are growing up with this pall of violence cast over us. I’m sad.
I’m afraid, God. I’m afraid it won’t end. I’m afraid clearer and wiser heads will not prevail in the end. I’m afraid the situation America is in will get worse before it gets better, if that’s possible. I’m afraid.
So that’s it.
I just thought you should know.
[OK, what do I do now? Say “Amen”? Just stop typing? I’ll just stop typing. No need to respond. I know you’re busy with more important things like picking next year’s college football national champion. OK, I do have one request: Just think about letting Texas A&M win it all.]