A Lamentation

It's a Lamentations Day.  Do you ever have those?  I wonder.  What my life means.  To me. To anyone.  To Jesus.  He died for it so it must count a great deal, but we are here such a short time, and this quest for holiness-in all the fallen and broken- seems so pointless.  On days like these, when the empty inside is full.  When the great American way weighs on my back:  A burden to be carried.

While the world goes suffering great drops of blood, we sing fast and loud.  We clap till' our hands are raw.  Applauding ourselves?  Is there but ONE out there who feels the same?  That we are spinning our wheels to create something beautiful?  When the culture tells us that we are ugly.  Never enough.
And that we are defined by what is on t.v.  The thin and thinner.  The rich and richer.  And all this sex going on outside the sacred, taking great bites of flesh out of hearts trying to grow up?  Fit in?  The deadly fake spins its sticky web of lies, catching the feet of generations.  Poison Porn taking purity captive.  Enslaved.  Eating disorders eating the souls of our girls, and sharp blades that cut less than the world somehow.

What can we do?  What power do we have?   To protect and defend?  Am I spitting in the wind?  My voice and heart raised to fevered pitch.  Not judging.  No.  Who am I?
Shouting warning.

Don't do.
What I have done.

Children, listen to your parents.
Be wise.  Be safe.
Be free.
That you would never lament these days.
That your life would be raised.

Friends, let us link hands to pierce that smothering cloud.   Let's lift up the lives of our children to God, that the enemy of their souls would not have a foot hold.  Nor would he have an inch.  Let us fervently do what we can.  Humbly.  From our knees.  That not one more child would be bruised and bloodied behind enemy lies.

Young people, I am praying for you right now,

Bernadette