Nothing More

I’ve been fighting a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach since last week’s date night.

After a lovely dinner, my husband and I headed to a local bar to have a drink and sit for awhile in each other’s presence. Not long after the bartender waited on us, someone rushed in with news that slowly began to rock our small rural city to its core. I went to bed that night hoping that people had their stories wrong, that all was well with our little, mostly insulated world.

It wasn’t. In short, a 26-year-old mother working as a pizza delivery driver was kidnapped and murdered. Her children are three-years-old and two-and-a-half months old. I did not know this woman, and yet I cannot shake the feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I feel angry: What kind of monster does such a thing? I feel sad: Oh my God, her babies. I feel confused: What kind of God even allows something like this to happen? I feel shaken: I saw a car that I did not recognize on my Saturday early morning run and altered my route. I feel sick: Why, why, why, why, why.

I keep coming back to the line from Alternate Route’s new song, “Nothing More,” in this recent tragedy, in the ways people have been speaking to and about each other as of late, in my own feelings and interactions with the world at large.

“We are how we treat each other and nothing more.”

The song was written for Sandy Hook, but I am finding that it applies to all of the things.

Nothing More

We don’t get to kill each other. We don’t get tell each other that we’re an abomination, against God’s plan for simply existing. We don’t get to deem people as less than because of the color of their skin, because of the size of their bank account, because of their disability, because of their sexual orientation, because of their age. We don’t get to throw hate out into the world and expect joy to grow forth from that seed we have sown.

You can live a pretty life on the outside with the two-point-five children, a dog, a spouse, a beautiful home, a nice car, and Pinterest worthy everything — but if you’re treating your fellow man as something expendable, something unworthy, then none of that matters. Not how often you go to church or how well-behaved your children may be or how esteemed your family is or what you think you have the right to say.

Having the compassion to love despite your right to do the opposite means so much more.

My heart feels heavy — for the senseless death of this young mother, for the way we treat each other, for the lives we waste by sowing seeds of hate — our own and the others we bring down with the weight of our words, our actions, our inaction. I don’t want to be held down by this weight, to be stuck and too scared to love out loud, to see you, to offer my heart, my compassion, my shoulder, my home. But it’s hard sometimes to live out loud, to act out of a place of love even when you know that the hatred is thick, the journey to peace is long, the weight so big and so heavy and so oddly shaped.

But for those who need it, who need someone to treat them like a human being, I’ll carry the weight. I hope you will too.

 

 

Fitbit Flex Activity + Sleep Wristband

5 Replies to “Nothing More”

  1. I don’t get it. I know that there’s all the heartbreak, but I don’t get how people can cause more. It’s so awful. That poor family. Those kids. There’s so much heartbreak.

    Another line in that song brings hope, “heroes don’t look like they used to. They look like you do.” In the midst of all the heartbreak, I guess we can be the heroes. By loving. And talking. And making things better. Maybe not fix it. But better.

  2. That’s awful, and terrifically sad. For her family. For your community. For your heart.

    And I’m just so glad that from this place of sadness, you wrote this, because your message is SO vital. And one I’ll be sharing. Thank you for making this Good come from something so awful.

    We are how we treat each other.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *