Crying Over Spilled Milk...Because I Can't Cry Over Boston

I haven't even processed the whole Boston thing yet.  I can't.  I can't look at the images.  I can't understand what would bring someone to the point of deciding to kill other people in such a horrible way.  I haven't read the stories of those who were killed or injured.  I have tried not to think a lot about it.  I haven't really prayed much about it.  I haven't cried about it.

I don't cry very often.  But this week I have cried about some plants of mine that died.  I have cried about the huge pile of laundry.  I have cried because the kids' rooms are horribly messy, even though they were just clean 3 days ago.  I cried over the cost of car repairs.  I cried when someone said some careless words to me.  I cried when my son spilled his milk.  I cried while I was making coffee this morning for no reason at all.

Except it isn't for no reason at all.  I am crying over these little things because I haven't allowed myself to cry over the big ones.  I haven't cried for Boston.  Or for West Texas.  Or for a family who was in a horrible car accident.  Or for a friend who is struggling with an incurable degenerative disease.  Or for a friend whose young son is facing serious medical issues.

I think many of you know that I am a deep feeler.  I hurt when people hurt.  I haven't wanted to hurt deeply for all of these big things so I (thought I) shut the doors of my heart to keep the pain at bay.  But it isn't working...it never does.  I am sad.  So deeply, deeply, sad.  I need to cry about the big things.  I need the hurt because it is the intense pain of others that brings me to my knees.  And on my knees is where I need to be.