This morning my heart is so heavy, my head a little unclear, all aching from the loss of good people who were so recently here on this earth. Meanwhile the cruel walk so heavily amongst us, stomping across our screens. My dad lost one of his closest, childhood friends a couple weeks ago. When I asked him how he was handling it, he'd said "He was one of two people in my life who has always been there for me, any time I needed him." And he's gone. Yesterday, his son, my age, probably 40 now, called his dad "perfect to me" and said he wanted to be just like him. I can't tell you if I've ever heard a child say that. 

Knowing they were in their final days, my friend asked his Dad if there was anything he wanted them to do after he passed.  He'd told them to teach his grandson two things - tolerance and forgiveness. These are the men who once walked our country. Men whose faith drove them to serve the hungry, poor, abandoned. Who tread with conviction and steadiness, served when they were needed. 

This morning I see on repeat the brutal murder of a man standing in to protect a woman, a man who served our veterans and showed them the honor they deserve in their final moments. A man I imagine being like my "uncle" - these men who walked the earth with tolerance and forgiveness. 

And like so many of my friends, we make breakfast. We try to parent. I need to get ready to go volunteer at Sunday school, to smile and sing with toddlers. Inside, heavy, unclear, aching. 

I'll try to tread today like Uncle Tom, my steps an echo.