From an article originally posted April 16, 2013…

Over and over yesterday on the news, the short clip of the bombings kept playing. I continued to watch the events in horror. Out of the first plume of smoke a bunch of yellow balloons lifted into the air. All evening my mind speculated over that chilling image. My heart ached at the thought of a proud child letting go of those treasures in pain.

I do not know the true story of those balloons. I do know that image drives me to prayer. I ache at the reports of children being hurt. I don’t want to turn on the news today. I don’t want to see the hurt.

I don’t want to see suffering, I don’t want others to hurt. Shoot—I don’t want to get out of bed today to face my own hard, though minuscule in comparison. I don’t want to meet the scary snort (radiation machine); I want to stay in bed and drink coffee. IWILL stay in bed this morning. I will be praying for the hurting, the broken, the caregivers, the confused. This morning I have heard of plenty to pray for before my feet have hit the floor. It is my privilege to pray for many, for the hurting, for the healthy walking next to the hurting, and for the owner of those yellow balloons. In myself, I have no power to help. But I know the One that offers comfort in the midst of chaos, strength for the weak, love for the lonely. Lord draw us to yourself. Comfort us.