In Response to Another Tragedy

On my way home from picking my daughter up from school this afternoon, I felt compelled to sit down when I got home and put some thoughts on paper.  As I opened my computer, I came across something a friend had posted on his Facebook page.  I have to say, Max really got it right with "A Christmas Prayer."  It sort of took away everything that I even dreamed of writing.  Because I just didn't think I could add anything.

So I was going to write, "What he said."  I know some people who read this don't read Facebook links to articles that people post.  I hope you'll read this one.  Because he's dead on.  We need Jesus to be born anew in us this Christmas.  Our world is in desperate straights and needs Him.

But then I thought a bit more about it.  I thought about how as I was watching the news this afternoon, while my little ones napped for the first time all week and my oldest was safe in her classroom in a community very similar to Sandy Hook, CT, my chest hurt, and I couldn't breathe well.  I thought about how it felt like September 11, 2001, all over again.  I thought about how the only thing I wanted was to hold my girls in my arms every day for the rest of my life.  And I thought about how when my daughter was in Kindergarten two years ago, there were only 21 kids in her class.  That would have left three survivors.  And then I thought about the survivors in that Kindergarten class at Sandy Hook Elementary and wondered if they could really be called survivors.  And I thought about that mom and how it felt to see her son walk into the classroom and open fire on her and the little ones in her care.  I hope she didn't see him.  I hope he caught her with her back turned.

So, in light of all of that, I wanted to share something after all.  I wanted to beg, along with the Church and children of God way back in the time of Isaiah, God for something.  Father God, send our salvation.  Rescue us.  Bring us Home.

Come, Thou long expected Jesus
Born to set Thy people free
From our fears and sins release us
Let us find our rest in Thee

Israel's strength and consolation
Hope of all the earth Thou art
Dear desire of every nation
Joy of every longing heart

Born Thy people to deliver
Born a child and yet a king
Born to reign in us forever
Now Thy gracious kingdom bring

By Thine own eternal Spirit
Rule in all our hearts alone
By Thine own sufficient merit
Raise us to Thy glorious throne

By Thine own sufficient merit
Raise us to Thy glorious throne

"Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus" by Charles Wesley (arranged by Chris Tomlin)

And I'll conclude as Max Lucado did.  Because it seems most fitting as long as we travel through this world.

Hopefully . . .

It's not me, it's my Coulrophobia.

It's official, and it's real. I like validation. Thanks to Criminal Minds, I actually have it. The validation. We're not sure where it actually came from.

For some people it is the result of a bad personal experience. Unless I've blocked it out, I can't say that I've had that. For others it stems from a sinister portrayal in the media. I know I've had that (thanks a ton, Stephen King), but this came much earlier than that. Wikipedia informs me that it is more common in children, but sometimes it occurs in adulthood. It does in this adult.

Now that we have it named, I have a complaint to lodge. Obviously I'm not the only one with this debilitating (I'm not exaggerating) condition. One in seven of us (and the rest of you are nuts!) have it. So can I call Johnny Depp and P. Diddy to help me form some sort of class action suit against the Garmin people? Their new commercial leaves me paralyzed in my chair. Oh, and now I can't even watch How I Met Your Mother without seeing it. And it isn't the friendly one that certainly appears harmless, though we aren't sure what's hiding under that big, red nose. Both Garmin and HIMYM have identified it by its name: Scary Clown.

And yet . . .

They keep. On. Showing. It.

I need a drink. Or some kind soul to ban it from my television. Please. For the love of all that's holy. I am begging.

While we're at it, I understand that it will soon be Bowl season. I very much like to watch college football. For those of us whose phobias extend beyond those with painted faces and into the masked devils, can we please discuss a ban on mascots? Take a tip from the University of Notre Dame. That little leprechaun is cute. And also my Masklophobia will thank you.

"Everything happens for a reason . . . except for clowns. I mean, seriously, what the hell?!"
--Anonymous flair on Facebook