Today, I’m mourning the loss of a man I never knew.
I read line after line about the impact he had on people, about their love for him, about his love for them. There was so much more to him than the brokenness in him and around him. There was kindness and faith, there was a love of Mumford & Sons and Raisin Bran, there was a whole person-sized ray of light.
Then, he returned to his hometown, where he was murdered.
It breaks my heart that he died, and in such a horrible way. That the darkness won.
I light a tiny candle for him, to pray by. Behind the flame is his picture on my computer screen. I pray for everyone who’s grieving, everyone he left behind, everyone who loved him. But that doesn't seem like enough, so I pray into the mystery to a God who’s supposed to be outside of time. I pray that the assurance that he matters, that he is seen, that he is loved, would reach Trinity Smith before he dies. I’ve never heard of anyone praying outside of time like this before, but all I know is that I can’t just pray for his survivors; I must pray for him too.
For him, and for all the others like them, those men and women who are so often not seen.
Help me see them, now, before it’s too late.
I blow out the candle, and a small amount of wax runs down the side, and it looks just like a tear running down the side of a face.
{image from the Dry Bones Denver Facebook page}
"For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me,I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me."
Matthew 25:35-36