Tired
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Sometimes I'm just tired. Tired of trying to figure it out, and when I don't feel like figuring it out, tired of just knowing that the world is full of pain, loss, suffering, grief, heartache. I'm tired. It's Thanksgiving week and I want to be thankful. I want to reflect on all God gives, does, Who He is, the ways He blesses. But then I just cringe and think: an SUV plowed into a group of people. There's anger, there's rage. There's confusion. And it all just makes me tired. And it isn't even MY pain, MY story, MY suffering. And my son goes to a funeral for a guy who accidentally overdosed. 'Poor choices' some would say. 'It was bound to happen someday.' And true enough. That is so. If you mess with drugs, you take huge risks. But what of the pain, the waywardness, the lack, that brings about a yearning to self-medicate? What about that? It makes me tired just thinking of it. And I don't even carry this grief. Not much anyway. This ...