Precious lives have been stolen by a thief on a dark mission. Today, as some of Orlando’s survivors grasp faintly at life’s misty breath, others ride trauma’s rough waves with fear’s toxic residue pulsing through their veins. Cell phones bearing their owners’ final text messages have finally stopped their frantic ringing. Stunned parents select coffins for their children’s ravaged bodies.
Pulse was a safe haven. A sacred place. People went there last Saturday night to have fun. To be themselves. Latin lovers danced their hearts out to the salsa beat as last call sounded, soon to be punctuated by the sharp crack of gunfire. But when that vandal punctured the heart of the LGBTQ community, along with the blood and the tears, love flowed into the world. The living and the dead—the lovers and the beloved—became love itself. Carrying the wounded through the carnage, arms slung over shoulders like kids in summer camp relay races, love incarnate took on flesh in an intimate embrace that knows no gender.
Yet the pain of loss and the bitter hatred that caused it still threatens to pull us under. The bullets cannot be gathered up and put back into that gun. The countless hate-filled thoughts and words that led to this violent spree cannot be neutralized. Extremism and fundamentalism fan the flames but cannot explain the fire. That’s up to every soul on the human journey. We won’t find answers on our big screen televisions or on any one of our mobile devices. We all must look deep into our own heart of hearts. That’s easier to do now that they’re broken open. We cling to one another and to the hope that as we heal, by God’s grace, so shall the world.
Gentle kisses on swollen eyelids bring a moment’s comfort. A doctor’s bloodstained shoes and the jagged passageways blasted through concrete walls remind us that the helpers were there. Miracles happened. People who have had to fight tirelessly for the right to love openly, it turns out, are really good at it! And hearts hardened by stubborn allegiance to ancient codes of conduct soften when soaked in the salty waters of tears. In this raw and tender time, families across the globe once torn apart by the punishing legacy of bigotry might just come together with newfound acceptance.
We can hope. And we can carry each other across the threshold to a new life together. As we bear the shared burden of grief, may we all be forever changed.
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