STOP!! Saturation Infatuation.

Stop.

Please.

While the airwaves project the strong and the able to run end zone to end zone. With the brutality and strength of the sidelines hits that no one can honestly listen to without hearing the brutality of the collision.

The rest.

Are left to “pull up the slack.”

The long haul is under assault.

The ground breaking familial and familiarity is under assault.

While we watch the other eat our burgers, and chips and spice this and spicy that.

People. Are dying.

And we are too busy to have noticed.

The efforts.

The extremes.

The all important quest at exclusion.

Instead. Hate drove the force and we allowed fear to take the reins.

For some.

The place had been set.

For those left behind.

The challenge: Never get too comfortable.

God is making the place.

The place of decisions that need to come from within our hearts.

He said it himself.

There is a time and a season.

Under heaven.

To a true believer.

This means complete surrender.

No matter the consequences.

To the ones left behind the confusion of what if.

There is a time and a place and a purpose under heaven.

While we mortals all grapple with the “whys” and our grief.

The unafraid strong have headed home to see that what they sought to prove to others while here on this place of peace and prosperity was more importantly a plea to let them be heard.

To see, maybe, what the ones left behind will,

”Do with it.”

Or not. For now.

There is work to be done. Grief to weed through.

Violence will continue to come with intent to understand in the midst of all the screen shouting and posting. Of possible evil motives.

What are we doing?

Stop it.

We are all so not important.

The bad guys will either get caught or run free. Carrying with them the weight of what they, the self, could not personally face in themself. Is it an epidemic? A pandemic? A mask-wearing- duty to infiltrate the lives of those we hate?

I do not want to think about it. Yet. I must. God. He alone implores my moral conscience,

To get over myself. To think of the other’s hurt, within the rational reason of moral conscience. Not foolishly “Willy nilly”

He.

Taught us, if we listened to the lessons in the chairs inside the church.

That missing what I wanted to have is never a measure of who I am or can be with his strength in the midst of the grief.

Yesterday.

The thieves. Stole the beauty and the growth of what could be.

The devastated were left behind numb and frozen to make sense of the hate.

Some leaders, too, left grappling with the best way to bring the middle back to the place of peace. After dropping the hate ball of their own consciences along the death defying minds of the influential and the midgets.

Hate.

Is a four letter word.

Hate.

Drives the cart from the hungry places of acceptance to the lonely places of pulling a trigger of.

Never-ending sadness.

All.

All.

Because decency overcame a faithful soldier who chose to buck the system of hate and political confusions and ask the naysayers to

”Prove me wrong.”

So. A monster. Yes. A monster, who felt not listened to, took it upon himself.

Himself.

To diabolically “wipe the slate clean.” Pull the trigger on another man’s life.

Foolishly believing the crazy had his back as he pulled the trigger on another person’s life.

No.

Stop.

Stop the violence.

Stop.

The hate.

He gave His life for us so we would recognize the sake that we should never squander another person’s life in the interest of our self-interest or potential selfishness.

A lie has speed. Truth has endurance.

Not idealistic. In no way idealised. The moves and motives of a monster are simply that. Monstrous. Devilish.

Unlawful.

And.

Against all the God holds true. For our hearts.

Why?

True love is deep. It takes time to discover its true qualities.

Or. And.

It hits with a “bam.”

A starting point.

A turning point.

Either way goodness guides its steps.

Not hate.

When hate steps in.

God steps out.

A feeling. A foolish feeling of obsessed love pointed in the wrong direction.

The consequences of sobs and tears and breaking down. Are too hard to bear, so the running away takes on whole new meaning. No escape possible when our actions hold the key to another person’s demise.

We do it to ourselves. We do it to each other.

He stands upright waiting for the fallout in the spirit of truth and consequences and faith that the walk ahead will be anything but easy.

But for the awake. The aware.

IT WILL BE.

A chance.

An Opportunity.For peace in the midst of all the death and despair.

A right of passage was offerred.

What will the survivors do with it.

Squander it?

Challenge it?

Rise up to it?

Once the dust and the immense sadness settles.

What will the one left standing do with the platform point forward?

We. Now. Feel. Crushed.

By the weight of a man who took a chance. Many chances to offer an olive branch to speak our minds.

”Prove me wrong.”

He would ask.

He. Was grounded in the truth of a path that directed our next steps. We were busy. We may not have always seen what he was trying to tell us. He may not have always seen us or proved his point.

He never wavered in the dream.

Of peace.

Faith.

Family.

A brighter and better future for the family.

Inclusivity for the individual who thought about one another in the best interest of one another.

Not the this that has become the “norm.” Hate-filled ideas of another person’s positions.

A courageous leader is a leader long after the trigger is pulled and the weaker coward could not face up to his own mortality.

We mourn.

Because we, yes, we took our eye off the ball.

The monster within ourselves caused the other to take the punishment because we were too weak to do it ourselves.

And the retched snowball kept the coldness in our hearts to project our weakness onto our next venture of selfishness and self-centered unawareness.

We cannot even utter, “I am sorry.”

Because when it is too late.

It is too late.

RIP Charlie.

Know. The real warriors were listening.

And.

They heard.

The message.

Stop the violence.

Stop hate.