Not a normal Monday


It’s April. A month that seems to bring about horrific events in American history.

Complaining about the weather seems like the most ridiculous thing ever in light of today’s events in Boston.

I had the radio on this afternoon as I was driving from one job site to another. And I heard bits and pieces of the story from the East Coast. One of my favorite areas of the country – one of my favorite cities.

Boston, MA.

A truly American city. Charming. Full of history. And now the Boston Marathon 2013 will be part of Boston’s history. A tragic historical event in this strong Patriotic city.

I couldn’t pay attention to the radio on my drive. But on my own personal drive home, I paid attention. Sitting in traffic, I carefully checked Twitter (I was stopped!). And I saw Tweets from various news outlets, friends, family, and complete strangers talking about Boston and the attacks on marathoners.

Immediately, I pulled up my iMessage and hit the little microphone button and dictated my concern to friends and family.

A nanny mom, a woman whose kids I’ve cradled and chased, is a marathoner. Her stamina and athleticism are commendable. And I knew she had run the Boston multiple times in the past. But since I no longer watch her kiddos, I didn’t know if she had trained this year. I hit the send button and she responded immediately saying she was not in the race this year, but had stayed at the hotel right next to the bombings two years ago. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. This woman, a woman I’ve known since my Sophomore year of college, is a friend. An incredible mom with kids who need her. A husband who loves her. Friends who care about her.

She’s an athlete. A runner.

Like so many of the moms running in today’s marathon. So many moms injured in today’s events.

I went on to text a cousin in CA…because her brother and his young family live in Boston. And her sister-in-law is a beast when it comes to running (although I was pretty sure she only did Tri’s — but ya never know). My CA cousin was unaware of the news, but texted later to say everything was fine with our family in Boston. My cousin who lives in Boston. His family and kids are safe. Everyone is safe.

Unlike so many families who are calling Boston hospitals to find their cousins.

Then I texted a friend whose good friend lives in Boston. Her friend was safe. Her friend ran the marathon last year. I remember seeing her Facebook pictures.

But so many friends of friends are not so fortunate tonight. Girls my age who train and run in marathons for the thrill, the challenge, the charities.

Friends who are praying for the recovery of their friends. Friends who may never run again.

I texted a friend who plays hockey in Boston and that friend was safe and sound.

I noted the multiple hockey Tweets on my Twitter feed from Boston NHLers, reporters, and a multitude other hockey people. I saw that the Bruins vs. Senators game was called off. A classy move by the NHL. Especially since we’re in the post-season – an important hockey season in this short hockey season. But the NHL recognized the importance of honoring the runners, spectators, and other Bostonian’s impacted by the attacks today.

When I arrived home, I did my usual get-in-the-door routine, but added turning on the TV to that list.

I flipped to my go-to national news station and saw the events scroll across my TV.

It was what I expected, but nothing like I expected. Because who ever expects this kind of stuff?

Like so many Aprils past, I saw news anchors and reporters reporting on the events – the thoughtless acts of violence on innocent people. Runners. Volunteers. First responders. Spectators – children and dads and moms and grandparents.

This kind of stuff — acts of terrorism — have occurred too many times in my lifetime.

I’ve seen these scenes too many times on my TV.

Too many Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Days. With too many horrific images on my TV. Graphic photos in my newspapers. Haunting quotes on my various internet news feeds.

Too much pain for a Monday. An unusual Monday that no one will soon forget.

So I sit here blogging away. Because besides praying, there’s nothing else I can do. I’m covered in flour, the floor is sticky, and the counters are filthy. I’m baking for a co-worker who shared baby news today.

Before the events in Boston.

When it was just another Monday.

But. It’s not a typical Monday.

And yet, somehow life goes on. Isn’t that what we want? To keep going? To not forget. But to show our nation’s strength by returning to normalcy after an abnormal day.

Confusing questions that I wrestle every time this kind of stuff happens.

 

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