My own musings were certainly driven by the angst I feel over my cousin’s recently diagnosed, but rapidly growing, abdominal cancer–a woman who has experienced the daily reminder of lost dreams as she has cared faithfully for her severely brain-damaged daughter.

But sadness was a road I was already traveling following the three funerals I attended in a six day period of time. Only one was the funeral of a personal friend. The other two were funerals of my friends’ loved ones. And still I felt the sadness. Not just for them, but for the entire human race that faces repeated waves of loss.

And it doesn’t seem to be getting much better out there. Two innocent young women shot in a nursing classroom in Baton Rouge. Two women who left behind a collective five children, not to mention husband, fiance, mothers, sisters and friends. Then there was the grief expressed by the family of the woman who fired the shots before killing herself. For them the compounded grief of loss and remorse.

Then came the shooting rampage in Illinois. Although the closest tie I have to any of the victims is the inconsequential fact that I attended college not far from there, I grieved with the families, the friends, the peers of those slain.

I am reminded we are to weep with those who weep. Not to enter into their suffering would be to deny the kinship of our shared humanity. How to enter in and not be overwhelmed, how to grieve and not be swallowed up in grief, and how to tremble with sadness while offering a steady hand to those more closely affected, is the challenge.

My own musings were certainly driven by the angst I feel over my cousin’s recently diagnosed, but rapidly growing, abdominal cancer–a woman who has experienced the daily reminder of lost dreams as she has cared faithfully for her severely brain-damaged daughter.

But sadness was a road I was already traveling following the three funerals I attended in a six day period of time. Only one was the funeral of a personal friend. The other two were funerals of my friends’ loved ones. And still I felt the sadness. Not just for them, but for the entire human race that faces repeated waves of loss.

And it doesn’t seem to be getting much better out there. Two innocent young women shot in a nursing classroom in Baton Rouge. Two women who left behind a collective five children, not to mention husband, fiance, mothers, sisters and friends. Then there was the grief expressed by the family of the woman who fired the shots before killing herself. For them the compounded grief of loss and remorse.

Then came the shooting rampage in Illinois. Although the closest tie I have to any of the victims is the inconsequential fact that I attended college not far from there, I grieved with the families, the friends, the peers of those slain.

I am reminded we are to weep with those who weep. Not to enter into their suffering would be to deny the kinship of our shared humanity. How to enter in and not be overwhelmed, how to grieve and not be swallowed up in grief, and how to tremble with sadness while offering a steady hand to those more closely affected, is the challenge.