My heart is in Uvalde this morning, a community of some 16,000 souls; twenty-one fewer than yesterday.
I’m reluctant to write about the shooting. So many words are written and spoken at times like this, many of them carelessly, and I don’t want to add to the debris. Even so, to say nothing seems cold hearted.
I can only imagine the shock parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbors, friends, and classmates are feeling. Suddenly a loved one has been taken. Violently.
If I were in Uvalde today, sitting at the table or on the porches of the grieved, I would maybe offer a cup of coffee or a glass of tea. But other than that I would just . . . be there. Be there and be quiet. Today is a day to feel—to moan, groan, cry, weep. It’s not a day for many words.
Honestly, I’d rather not even think about the dark sadness that has descended on that community. I’d much rather go on with my plans for the day, none of which included any crying or groaning. But I can’t shake a line from an old hymn (which has a sad backstory all its own):
I cannot close my heart to thee
Uvalde, you have my prayers. And my tears. My heart is with you.
© 2022 by Tim Grissom. All rights reserved.