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Year Three, Day 281: Remothering

My heart is still aching.  I am reading about Nikolas Cruz. There is no question about his guilt.  It is a matter of life in prison or the death penalty.

He has been broken since childhood.  His life was an open plea for help.  Hurting animals, loner behavior, cutting himself, acquiring guns and ammo, posting on social media about his intentions to shoot up a school.

But apparently no one responded. He was like a voice crying in the wilderness.

I am wondering if he is indeed remorseful. I am wondering if now he will finally get help, if indeed they give him life in prison.

Our society bears the guilt for this.  No, we did not pull the trigger, but we failed him.

I saw an article which connects kids who grow up without a good father figure in their lives to men who commit violent acts.

Yet another strike against him.

I saw my son today. He grew up without his father.  My heart has ached for him since he was young.  He has a sweet spirit. But he has struggled.  Today I bought him a phone. He had a severe head injury a few years ago. You may have seen my blog post about it.  I took him to the ER. I sat with him overnight. He had a CT scan. They found bleeding in his brain.

They finally released him. But I don't know if he has ever fully recovered. He loses things. He is forgetful.

I am officially in remothering mode. I am helping him apply for the Oregon Health Plan. I signed a form that makes me his "Authorized Representative".

The phone I got for him is an old-school flip phone. Cheap, in case he loses it.  And sturdy, so that he does not crack the screen.

He met me at lunch with a friend of his. A friend I have never met. But the young man smiled at me, established eye contact, and shook my hand when I introduced myself. I was heading to the library. They asked me if I needed a ride. I told them they could drop me off on 82nd. It was easy to hop on a bus from there.

But his friend insisted he drive me right to the library!

He told me to have a good day and that it was nice meeting me.

I smiled as I got out of the car. My son, opened his door and came and helped me out.

Then he looked at me and said, "Love you Mom. Be safe".
 

He kissed me on each cheek. They both waved goodbye as they rolled out of the parking lot.


These little acts of kindness warm my heart.  And old fashioned manners, like introducing people who have never met, shaking hands, smiling, looking into their eyes. These do not go out of style.

I hope they never do.

I have been so sad about the victims of the recent shooting. Angry too, that this continues to happen.  Angry that people keep talking about guns, when we need to talk more about how people like Nikolas Cruz fall through the cracks and ultimately retaliate.

Tonight I am praying for him. And all those who feel abandoned, isolated and rejected.


I didn't hoop today. I woke up tired. My heart was racing.  I hadn't slept well. But I made it to my church, Portland Bible Church.  That always helps.  I feel like this little church feeds my soul. The people greet me warmly. I feel valued there.

Definitely not invisible.  And the pastor gives me much food for thought.  I feel elevated every Sunday after service.

I had my traditional post church lunch, bible study, and contemplation.  Met with my son and friend. Am at the library blogging at this very moment. Then I am heading to see a friend sing in a vocal
concert.

After that I shall go home and dive into bed.

Tomorrow I will see my doctor.  About my shortness of breath, fatigue and cough.

But I don't think my nurse practitioner can give me a prescription for a pill that cures heartbreak.

Time, prayer and kindness are the only cures I know of.  

Talk to you tomorrow.

Love,

Zita




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