"My Heart is Smashed Like Dried Up Grass."

 One of the things I have loved in my life is the way of the Psalmist, the Mwalimu, the Qoheleth, the Scribes, The Writers, the Poets who can take the complexities of our emotions and eloquently put them into words that far exceed the skills of this writer. 

I am trained as a Chaplain. Professionally, I help people put words to complex situations, to sudden loss, to devastating news, to catastrophic moments that upend their lives as they know it. We stand in the deep dense fog of the feelings that emerge and do not run from them. We let the tears flow and tell their own story. We stay uncomfortable. And as professionals, we tend to all the volumes we hold...and let it go. 

In the middle of it, however, it is enormous. 

Sudden news.

Sudden endings.

Sudden loss.

What does one do with the enormity of what they thought would be their life just evaporating in a puff?

Humankind has found themselves in this situation.

From positions that suddenly end to natural disasters ripping apart centuries old churches to even the loss of identity of moving from student to graduate, we have all been in the deep gut numbness of what do we do now? what is my identity now? How do I move on now?

Like so many in this season of too much being too much to even hold, it is imperative that we retain our humanity. 

It may seem futile, but we must.

We can not give up.

We can not let evil win.

We can not fall into despair.

It takes a lot to remain awake and engage, even as the fog and numbness of all that is happening engulfs your soul. But we have to press on.

The other day, in a moment of feeling the grief of humanity, I turned to the Psalter. It is my place when I have no idea, no prayers of my own, no words to make sense of anything.

Psalm 10 helped me utter the deepest emotions.

It begins with, "Lord, you seem so far away when evil is near! Why do you stand so far off as though you don't care? Why have you hidden yourself when I need you the most?"

Talk about the poet just saying it like it is! 

The writer goes on to say that the arrogant in their "elitist pride persecute the poor and helpless" - it is not that God doesn't see and doesn't care and doesn't already know, and the poet knows this, it is a place of faith and trust in the God of the universe that causes her to cry out. 

For the next few verses, the poet goes on to outline all that the evil are doing - I encourage you to read it - then, in verse 14, says, "Lord, I know you see all that they're doing, noting their each and every deed, you know the trouble and turmoil they've caused. Now punish them thoroughly for all they've done! The poor and helpless ones trust in you, Lord, for you are famous for being the Helper of the fatherless. I know you won't let them down." What a prayer of faith and trust!

I sat with the poet's words for quite a while.

My family is not one of those on Medicaid, but that doesn't mean I don't care deeply about the millions who will lose coverage.

My family is not one of those on SNAP, but that doesn't mean I don't care about the many children who will go hungry.

My family is not one of the ones being kidnapped off the street, but that doesn't mean I don't care about the 59,000 held in a concentration camp in the land of the free.

The poet gave me language to place my anger and dismay and to encourage me and remind me that in my faith, I can put my prayers to actions. I can say what I feel and not just wipe my hands like, "I prayed, now get someone else to do it." Trust me as one of the 92%, I really don't feel much like trying to save America from herself (see my post), but as a Chaplain, as an Empath, as an Advocate, as one who cares deeply about humanity, every nerve of my being is on edge about what is to come to the people who did not cause this.

But, my hope remains in the power of the people.

There have always been more good people than evil.

The good just need to not be scared.

My heart may feel smashed up and dried up at times, but its s still beating and while these sixty-one-year-old knees are not as agile as they once were, I am still able to do all I can, while I can, for all that I can. We can all do something.

Evil only wins if we let it.

©2025. Tayé Foster Bradshaw Group LLC.

Looking out over the comings-and-going figuring out a way forward