Holy One – did you lean closer today and watch as the small black cat crossed the road, toward my beckoning hand on her delicate paws? Did you hear the way she purred, did you send her just for me?
And while I’m at it, can you make heaven like summer camp? Can there be bunks and cabins, flashlights and campfires, a grand adventure where we all know that as soon as the end of the week we will be reunited again? Can it be the voices of children singing in the night, and sand on the sheets and shower shoes kicked under the bunk beds?
Because here we are again, with blood dripping from our hands, prostrate on the ground and begging you to help us.
Lift us up once more, I pray. Wipe our tears and let our grief move us to the kind of action that saves the lives of your precious children. Remind us that we are already equipped with every single thing we need to usher in your world. Tell us again that if we’re waiting for you, we’re waiting in vain, because you’re already here.
And meanwhile, thank you for the camp counselors and the way their wings poke out from their tie dye tee shirts. Thank you for looking after them, for welcoming them home, nuestros pequeños ángulos, nuestros santos inocentes.
Thank you for comfort carried on the delicate paws of a cat that isn’t mine, for hope in the midst of despair, a box of tissues when the tears won’t stop.
Alicia Hager resides in West Michigan and is a newly ordained Deacon (transitional) in the Episcopal Church. Alicia enjoys spending time with her daughters and her husband, is bonkers about her cats, and blogs at astrawberrypointe.wordpress.com.