I want to be angry at you. It's a strange feeling, that, because there was a time when anger, particularly anger in the form of outrage, came easily to me. Instead, I find myself just wanting to be angry.
I came closest when Graeme and I prayed tonight. He prayed that everyone in Boston would be all right and that no one would die. I found myself mentally calculating whether I should tell him that someone was murdered right before bed or wait until the morning.
Still, no anger.
Sadness. Not anger.
Several good friends have posted a quote from Fred Rogers: "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in
the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will
always find people who are helping.'"
And in the end, that's why I'm not angry. Because while there was horror and shock and pain today, and while there's plenty left for the days to come, particularly for the families of the dead and injured, there was also hope.
Runners finishing a marathon - a marathon - and donating blood. People running back into the explosion to help out. Stores, shops and apartment buildings opening up their wifi to help people get in touch with those outside the city.
We'll get through this. No, that's not quite right. We'll surpass this. We'll better this. You've already lost.