Monday's bombing at the Boston Marathon has weighed heavily on my heart this week. There is little I can say that has not already been said, and probably expressed more eloquently (see: Patton Oswalt, Craig Ferguson, Mister Rogers). However, I feel I must acknowledge it and not just go on about something that feels trivial in comparison.
Everyone experiences a major historical event unfold before their eyes at some point in their lifetime. Earlier generations remember where they were when President Kennedy was shot. The major event of my childhood was the Challenger explosion. I remember our elementary teachers watching on TV and crying softly. We didn't fully understand the severity of what happened but we knew something very wrong had happened.
I'm sure much debate can be made of whether the world is actually more dangerous these days, but it sure feels that way to me. As a kid, I remember that one major event. As a parent, I fear for what my children will experience in their own lives. How many bombing or shootings or random violence will they be exposed to? Honestly, if they only remember one tragedy it will probably be a miracle. I am angry that we have reason to now feel uneasy going to a marathon or sending our kids to school. I am angry that we more easily remember the names of the people that commit horrendous acts than the names of their victims, because the perpetrators are endlessly discussed in the news. I am tired of a seemingly endless stream of terrible things happening. I am really trying to focus on the helpers, more importantly focus on being a helper. It just seems overwhelming this week.