The Tendrils of Grief

 

 

 

The Order
(by R.P.Edwards)

In order of importance
They line up at the gate
Awaiting Heaven’s greeting
The endless…celebrate
But those with names and titles
The very few, there are
They’re often found, quite near the back
For God defines…the star

It’s been a few days since the shooting.  When the Arizona malcontent, Jared Loughner, opened fire at a little political meet-and-greet which killed six, and wounded…many.  The victims immediately identified: Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords (grievously injured, and apparently the main target), Federal Judge John Roll (killed), and a nine-year-old girl (also killed) Christina Taylor Green.

Now, this is not a commentary on the motive of the monster, or an exploration of the misconstruing of the media; nor a delving into the knee-jerk notions of legislators and lobbyists.  No, its just a simple observation of the tendrils…of grief.

You  see, it’s all in the knowing.  The attachment.  The connection.  In this event we--we of this Constitutional Republic--we who have a direct hand in the election of our “voices” (not to mention the recent momentous elections), one of “ours” was targeted and injured.  In essence, the thousands upon thousands who put her in office, and all of her constituents, were also attacked.  She is a public face; a familiar voice; we “know” her.  And this…wounds us all.  And we all, to some extent…grieve.

Next; Federal Judge Roll.  Again; someone important.  Someone known. Someone whose decisions have touched many.  And, since he was appointed by a president, he too is (was) attached to the nation. 

Finally, an innocent nine-year-old girl interested in public service. And, since many of us have children, or know children, we too are wounded at the thought that someone would be so cruel as to murder such a beautiful flower. To destroy such a promising young life.  It reaches each of us and, since just three short months ago I brought two of my sons to a political event, this connection adds to the heartache.

You see, it’s like the pebble in the pond. The closer to the splash, the more intense the wave action.  The family grieves most, then the friends and the acquaintances.  It finally ripples down to the head-nod of the obituary reader.  Grief comes from knowing.  But, of course, knowing does not mean…importance. At least not in God’s eyes.

A final thought: It is only right to be appalled and incensed at the cruel actions of the crazed gunman.  It is only right to mourn the loss of life.  And, it’s only natural to focus first on those we, in some way…know.  But, on that same day, there were four others who were murdered that haven’t been given much press, and their mourners…will be less.  And, on that same day, I’m sure there were many others murdered in less spectacular fashion.  The mourners for these, will be far, far less.  And, in my home town, at least sixty-five unborn children died by the abortionist's hand.  Their mourners…

Perhaps, when all is said and done; perhaps we should all…increase our “knowing.”

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