I have cried off and on all day today.

It’s a lamenting kind of day.

The news. Heartbreaking. I can’t stand to watch. Or listen. It’s too much.

Shocked. Scared. Paralyzed.

Nineteen children. How?

A friend’s husband. Sick. Gone. Just like that. How?

Another friend with breast cancer. Stage 2. Chemo. Mastectomy. Unknowns. How?

A local family robbed of their 16-year-old son, drowning in this early swimming season. Already. How?

My husband is dead. Isn’t he going to walk through the door tonight? I still can’t believe it… even after 19 months. How? Why?

It’s a lamenting kind of day.

Even small things….

A coffee pot, stubbornly refusing to pour out it’s morning brew. Just puff and it’s done. No coffee. Nothing.

A toilet that just clanks at me when flushed and remains soiled and unclean. Sigh.

Another coffee pot just pouring over the top, grounds and all. Really? I just want a cup of coffee. Is that too much to ask?

Fresh yellow road paint splayed across my car. Solid. Dry. Immoveable. How? Where? When?

Small things. Not important. Relatively speaking. But still..

I need things to work. Like they are suppose to. Like I planned.

Schools.

Health.

Marriage. Long healthy happy marriages.

And toilets.

Other things too. But those are whispered between God and me. Too personal to even type into words. I don’t want to see them on the page. How? Why? Where are you? Do you see us? Do you see me?

I need things to stop breaking! I had plans. They had plans. How long, Lord? How long? #habakkuk

It’s a lamenting kind of day.

Lament: a passionate expression of grief or sorrow.