A little bit of hell broke into the world in Connecticut on Friday. A piece of hell that shrouded the country and globe in some heavy darkness. I am pretty far removed from the event—I have never been involved in that sort of catastrophe; I do not know anyone directly connected to Sandy Hook; I have no children I’ve had to send back to school, or watch in their sleep knowing what evils lurk around every corner.
My life went on more or less as usual on Friday and the days to follow. I kept all of my plans and appointments. I carried a heaviness, though, a certain tightness. I took comfort in spending my Friday afternoon practicing life-saving techniques at the Red Cross, even though CPR and AEDs can only do so much, only go so far.
On Sunday, at a church where I am still to a large…
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