I scrolled Twitter for twenty minutes yesterday.
I wish I hadn’t.
My husband watches the news, I do not. So, I asked him why the police didn’t charge in. He had no answer.
As a little girl who cowered and a woman who devoted most of her life’s work to trying to make life better for children, I cared and care deeply. My first “real” job had an essay about what children need as an unnecessary attachment.
I cared and care about children.
Still, my counselor suggested I not look too much or as needed look away.
Does that seem uncaring?
If I share a photo of blackberries or art or me enjoying a precious book, does that mean I’ve forgotten the horrors of this place?
“I can care without caring too much.” Me
The thought came as I carried on towards today.
I can care deeply; but my caring can’t be so much that I can’t care for myself or those who love me.
I’m waiting for the blackberry bushes to be overgrown with deep grape colors. I’ve promised my granddaughter we’ll pick them together.
Small things, great love in the place God has me and from a distance,
continual prayers for those I can’t touch.
“casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.”
1 Peter 5:7 ESV