It's Too Bad.

In everything that's happened today, I have one question:
Why do we feel compelled to say something in the face of tragedy?

One of our pastors died today from thyroid cancer. My family didn't find out until just now, and my mom seems to want to talk until the funeral; Facebook is flooded with R.I.P.'s and everything from people who I can guarantee never said more than two sentences to her.

Maybe I judge too quickly and strongly (something I seem to be doing a lot lately) but people are so awkward and sometimes I wish everyone would just stop talking. Does it ever help? I tried it, talking to people about the bad things in my life, or even the good things (in the hopes that they would last, somehow, attached to my life by the fragile thread of words), but the bad things continue and the good things fade.

It occurs to me that I am a person as much as everyone else--my first impulse was to sit down and write. Or yell.

Music seems inappropriate in the face of my mother's grief (she truly knew and loved her) but I feel that it is one of the balms that life lends us.

I have no right to speak. I learned once, when someone I loved but little knew left and I stood up to speak and felt shunned. Ever since then I really don't feel like speaking or doing anything without thinking it through very thoroughly. It's wise, and every time I don't think it through, I end up on long guilt-trips and in embarrassing situations.

Time has lost all meaning to me. Yesterday seems as far away as three years ago; tomorrow is as long as eternity.

Oh, crap. The irony just hit me--my aunt went into labor today, nearly two weeks overdue. Sometimes I think that God has a sick sense of humor; but I remember the moments when I was awash in His love (Saturday night) and repent.

Jesus! Why pray when You obviously already know the outcome? Why encourage our hopes with prayer services and then snatch her away within five days? Questions, questions. Even when I have my answers, I still have questions.

Good night.