I've been a mess today for most of the day. This morning, I found out that 50 people were killed in a gay night club in Orlando in the early hours of this morning. I still don't know if any of my friends are among the fallen. I don't know a lot of people in Orlando, but know that my friends are a traveling group who could easily have been there. David and I could have been there.
I went to church this morning and it was Pride Sunday. The pastor and our church were clearly aware of what had happened in Orlando. It gave this morning's service even more meaning. My friend, Alexis Bertand, sang the song "Glory." Our pastor had her own lyrics to add to it. No matter what version you listen to, this song is moving.
Today, as i listened, I sobbed. So many dead people for no reason. When will this war be done? When will we actually get this glory. Why does any person think that killing others is a solution? As far as I know, every major religion condemns murder as a sin. Islam, Judaism, Christianity, Buddhism, Native American Spirituality, and Hinduism all talk about loving each other and putting positive energy into the world.
I can't help but think that gun control is part of the solution. There is no need for any individual to have automatic weapons. I think that love is a greater part of the solution. Why can't we all support open loving relationships between adults. Let us all love who we want to love as long as we are adults and are not hurting other people. My God is about love, not hate. My God is about building up lives, not taking them away. My God is about giving with all you've got to help every person you know (and those you don't know) to have a better life.
As I continued to grieve and struggled to put into words what I am feeling, I decided to go for a walk. The day is beautiful. The sun in shining. Children are playing on the street. I stopped by the local store to pick up some colored pencils and draw. I'm not an artist, but had to draw something. America is hurting. The heart of America is our diversity.
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