When Weeping Lingers for More Than One Night...

Weeping may linger for the night,

but joy comes with the morning. 

Psalm 30:5

When I was a little kid, I thought that mourning doves were actually "morning" doves. I remember one afternoon, visiting my grandparents in their New Jersey home, I heard a "morning" dove and I asked my Granny why I was hearing a "morning" dove in the afternoon. After she figured out what I meant, she explained that the bird was called a "mourning" dove because the sound it makes can be so sad.

This entire week, I've been staying at the home of some relatives while they are out of town. I came here for a couple of events and, at least when I planned this trip, I decided the time here alone would do me some good. A retreat, of sorts.

All week long, I've heard the sound of many mourning doves outside: on the roof, right by the chimney, next to the window, on the fence, in the trees. I hear one now, sadly calling, again and again. And this sound has been an appropriate backdrop for the sadness I have felt all week.

I came here already sad. Our beloved schnauzer, Max, died last week, and so it was with a heavy heart that I came on this trip at all. I was terrified to be alone with my grief - so very scared to face alone the gut-wrenching sobs that I knew would come. And they have come, and they have gone, and then they've come back again. Joy may come in the morning, but sometimes, weeping lingers for more than a night.

And then there came Charleston, and deaths so horrific that I spent my alone time in stunned silence, with silent tears, not knowing what to say or do, only knowing that there would be another night wherein weeping would linger, and another morning with no joy.

All week long, I've watched my social media feeds blow up. I've read horrible words that those with racist hearts have said about others. I've seen quote after inspirational quote by Dr. King and I've even posted a few myself because his words have always been anchors for me in trying to understand - as a white person - the racial tensions we face as a nation.

It has all felt empty to me.

And I think that, for me, anyway, the emptiness stems not from a lack of caring - I do care, very much. The emptiness stems from having to stare at this ugliness once again - this particular form of evil, that cloaks itself in righteousness and calls itself holy. For racism is evil, and particularly so when it drives someone to destroy life. The emptiness I've felt this week has come from knowing that there are no quick solutions, there are no easy answers, and there is no way we are getting out of this without more meaningless rhetoric from our politicians and more anger spewing from all sides.

And all I can do is what I can do.

All I can do is speak against racism when I see it and hear it, whether it is an attitude in my own heart or something I witness in someone else's. All I can do is pray unceasingly for those who have no peace, either because of the color of their skin or because of the insidious hatred in their hearts. All I can do is reach out to those I know who suffer because of racism. All I can do is weep for those who have died and mourn for our world which is so very broken.

And all I can do is remember for myself and say again to others that the love of God is greater than our hatred. The love of God is greater than our sin. All I can do is remember again and again that the love of God encompasses us all, so that while weeping may linger for a night or more, joy will - eventually - come again in the morning.