Yesterday there was an act of violence. The one who died was human. The one who held the weapon was human, too.
Yesterday there were tears shed. Little ones lost. Fingers scrolling through news item after news item, hearts numb from grief. There were stifled cries of worry and there was an internal battle against fear.
Let us still be the ones who love. Even from these yesterdays, and so many like this, so vast and full of weight, let us still be the ones who love.
Let us look fiercely, with eyes wide open, at our histories—both personal and public—even to places where there is harm and sorrow. These are the eyes of compassion.
Let us look gently, too, with the innocence that allows wonder and believes in grace. These are the eyes of forgiveness.
Let us look with wisdom and discernment, to know when the story was changed, and why it was changed and whom those changes might serve. These are the eyes of consciousness.
Today we look backwards, with our hearts lit up like search lights, to offer a blessing for what has been.
We bless the wisdom of women and men who have walked ahead of us, even through times as dark as ours.
We bless the work of compassion for our own younger selves, which cracks open the hardest places in our hearts.
We bless all the moments that have made us what we are. We are joy and sorrow intermingled. We are hearts opening in both directions, backward and forward, up and down.
We offer a blessing for what has been, that we may lay it to rest and walk forward as our bravest, most loving selves. Even from all these yesterdays—so vast and so full of weight—we can still rise and love.