If you go to the website of any major news organization
today, you’ll see headlines about a coordinated attack on Paris, suicide
bombings in Beirut and Baghdad, and a retelling of an April massacre at a Kenyan college, among other
stories of devastation. With hundreds dead and even more injured, the impact of
these tragedies is immeasurable. I am astounded by the hate that drove the
assailants to their destructive actions, and I am not alone in my heartbreak.
The world mourns tonight.
But as I try to process the events of this weekend, I find myself
torn. In one moment, I am wiping tears from my eyes, deeply overwhelmed by my
sorrow and fear. And in the next moment, I want to celebrate all of the good
things around me. While there is nothing that can justify or rectify the absolute
pain from these past days, I don’t think there has ever been a better time to
be thankful for the beautiful things that happened at the same time.
This weekend, my Facebook newsfeed showed pictures of
weddings, engagements, new babies, and birthdays. Friends were sworn into the
Peace Corps, while others continued their work with Teach for America and other
ambitious organizations. My brother qualified for his first collegiate national
cross-country race and my grandma hiked the Peruvian Andes. Nations stood in
solidarity with France by lighting up their buildings in the colors of liberté, égalité, fraternité. A stranger brought us all together with
his rendition of “Imagine” played outside the Bataclan this morning. While the
world wept this weekend, the outpouring of love was a beautiful thing.
I
recognize that my hopeful idealism may be naïve – maybe fear and anger are the
appropriate responses to the unconscionable events of these past few days. Nevertheless,
I am so incredibly inspired by the beautiful people who are trying to make the
world just a little bit better. So while I mourn the hatred and the lives lost,
I also want to express my deep gratitude for those who continue to do good
work. The task is not easy, and at times success might feel unattainable. But
we have to keep moving forward. Personally, I’m thankful for even the smallest
bit of light shining through the darkness.
