Devotions Archive Archive: 1999 | 2000 | 2001 | 2002 | 2003 | 2004 | 2005 | 2006 | 2007 | 2008 | 2009 | 2010 | 2011 | 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 | 2016 | 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021 | 2022 | 2023 | 2024 Search Archive Print This Article Normal interrupted Saturday, March 2, 2002 Micah 7: 18-19, Psalm 103:8-12 Micah 7: 18-19 Who is a God like you, who pardons sin and forgives ... You do not stay angry forever but delight to show mercy. You will again have compassion on us; you will tread our sins underfoot and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea. Psalm 103:8-12 The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love. He will not always accuse, nor will he harbor his anger forever; he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. I can't stop thinking about Ellen Feinberg. Last night I woke up several times, always my mind filling up with images and thoughts and feelings. I felt broken, sad, guilty. Sleep fled. This morning in the dreary dawn I delivered newspapers with banner headlines and long stories about untreated depression in mothers, the murder, her children, her life. "She was a good mother. Just watching her with the kids, she was so good." She gave up her medical practice a few years ago to be a stay-at-home mom. At school people knew her as the "box-top lady," in charge of a PTA fundraising contest, organizing ice cream parties for the winners. Thursday morning she chaperoned Adam's field trip to see a play. She and the other moms talked about their kids moving on to middle school. Adam wore shorts all year, even in the winter. He played basketball, hockey, soccer, baseball, chess. Neighbors often woke up to the sound of Adam dribbling and shooting baskets in his driveway. He played a lawyer in last year's fourth grade play. He was always smiling. And he was learning how to fish. Thursday afternoon something awful happened at home. Now Adam is dead and Ellen is in a mental health facility pronounced, for now, unfit for trial. And some of us are having trouble sleeping. No man is an island. We want to make this all go away, for Ellen, for Adam, for ourselves. But it won't go away, and I feel guilt that must come simply from being part of the family of man. Do not ask for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee. In When Life Takes What Matters, Susan Lenzkes writes, "It's all right - questions, pain, stabbing anger can be poured out to the Infinite One ... Our wounded ragings will be lost in him and we will be found. For we beat on his chest from within the circle of his arms." More even than the family of man, I'm part of the family of God. I'm desperately grateful to have a father who will always hold us close, and never let us go. Jesus, weeping with us, with your love and strength and compassion, uncover our hearts today, and point us toward tomorrow. "; Add      Edit    Delete