There are no words

running feetToday I ran.  As I heard my feet hit the pavement, I thought of other running feet today.  The ones who awoke in Boston, after likely months of training, and headed out for a marathon.  The Boston Marathon.  I think of them tying their shoes.  I think of the crisp morning air, and I think about them stretching in preparation.  I think of them pinning on their numbers, and taking their place among so many others.  I think of the sound of their feet–all of those feet--hitting the pavement.  And how none of them knew what was about to happenI think about children with their parents for a fun day together, wives waiting for their husbands and vice versa.  It’s a day of fun.  It’s a day of accomplishment.  It’s a day of celebration.  Until the unthinkable happens.

I was driving in the car when I first heard the news.  I immediately thought of my sister.  She and her military family Spent 3 years in the city that stole their hearts.  They haven’t even been gone a full year yet.  We visited them twice during their time in Boston.  I thought about places we had been.  Riding the swan boats.  Lobster tails at Mike’s Pastry.  Following the Freedom Trail.  Wading in Frog Pond.  I thought of her friends.  I saw faces of people I had met–people so close to my sister that I know she considers them family.

mikes pastrys          frog         frog pond         freedom trail         cheers

boston10                      childrens musem                    boston common                 bethruth                 beth

Later when we talk my sister says,

“That’s where we were.  We were in that very spot one year for the marathon”

It sinks in.  this day could have been very different for her.  For me.  It could have been life altering.  It was for many.

All of my sisters friends–runners and spectators–are safe.  “One of my friends was there with all 4 of her kids”  She says.  There are no words.

And as we look from far away, we thank God for the ones that were protected.  And we are devastated for the ones that were injured.  Left without limbs.  Came for a run, left missing a leg.  There are no words.  We grieve for the 3 lost.  One, an 8-year-old boy. I have an 8-year-old.  There are no words.


When there are no words, and there are no answers we are confident that there is the Word and He is the answer.  When there are people grieving–a city, grieving–there is a God to comfort, to love and to redeem.  We see this through runners not stopping at the finish line, but running straight to the hospital to donate blood to the injured.  A Dr., that happened to be at the finish line.  Others around him fell, but he stood–and treated others.  We see it through spectators running towards–instead of away from–explosions to help others. 

mr rogers

we know deep down that if there were not terrible days, we wouldn’t know to enjoy the wonderful days.

If there weren’t hard times, we couldn’t appreciate the good times

If some days were not the days where you need strength to stand….or breathe, then we would never experience grace to stand….or breathe.

If everyday was perfect, we wouldn’t need a perfect Savior


So on the terrible day that is today, right in the middle of this hard time, where the people of Boston need grace to stand….to breathe….we beg our perfect Savior for redemption.  He will redeem.

We are praying for you, Boston!


3 comments on “There are no words

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