When Words Don’t Feel Good Enough

In the short 36 or so hours since it happened, many words have been written about the Oregon shooting.

Nine beautiful spirits shuttered because of one man. And no, I won’t say the shooter’s name. I hope you won’t either.

I have been turning this over in my head for a day, like I’m sure you have, too, trying to formulate a coherent single thought or theory that will somehow encapsulate all of the emotions this entails.

But I don’t feel like there are many words left.

I can say how my soul aches for the parents and spouses and families of the victims, because it does. God bless them.

I can say that the man who committed this was sick and foul and damaged and wrong, because, by all accounts, he was.

I can say that these events are getting sadly too common in our world.

And all of that is all true. But it’s still not enough.

There’s only one word I keep going back to every time I hear an update on this story.

WHEN do we get to fix it? WHEN do we get to wake up from this nightmare?

At what point in the future—10, 20, 50 years from now?—will we look back at this chapter in our country’s history and, with a chill in our spines and tears in our eyes, acknowledge that yes, it was horrible; yes, it was gutting; but finally, it’s over?

Will we ever get to say THOSE words? Because those are the only ones I’m ever interested in saying again.

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