I have never been one to swear by innocence, but I have believed in the innate goodness of humankind.
I stood in the middle of my living room and cried when bombs exploded in Boston, disrupting the final ceremonies of yet another marathon.
I knew a couple of people who were there, and they are okay, but my heart breaks for those who have honed their running skills to a fine edge of excellence and have awakened today to find one or both legs gone.
I looked at the front page of a metro daily and saw a bright-eyed eight-year-old who had just bought an ice cream cone when his life was cut short.
He was the symbol of innocence, hanging out with his mom and sister, watching the 117th annual marathon wind down.
Agonizing, I asked myself how anyone could be so crass as to violently disrupt one of our nationís traditions, and for what?
I saw human goodness as runners who did not finish their races, bystanders, law enforcement, first responders and others rushed to help the injured; then I saw the bad as two misguided young brothers were identified as the bombers.
Was it their own sense of unhappiness at the society in the United States, a sense of unfulfilled entitlement or their own jihad?
The older brother is dead and the younger probably wonít live to be taken into custody, so we will probably never know.
Then, right on the coattails of that tragedy, a fertilizer plant blew up in West, Texas, not far from Waco, and I remembered that the raid on the Branch Davidian compound happened in April, as did the bombing of the Murrah Building in Oklahoma City. To me, April has always been a time of awakening, not of death.
Yet it seems terrible things happen in this supposedly glorious month.
As I cried again, I noted that the same fertilizing chemical that blew the Texas town to fragments was the one used to blow up the government office building in Oklahoma City. Anhydrous ammonia. It is as bad as it sounds.
The explosion in Texas this April wasnít an act of terror, but likely an act of human error.
Again, the people who could went to help. They have meticulously gone through the buildings of the small town of West, hoping for the best, but often encountering the worst.
Today, the first responders are looking for life in Texas, but they have given up the search in Boston. They are trying to piece together bombs made out of pressure cookers and lives turned to the dark side.
Families are preparing for funerals and the president is talking of bringing the Boston bombers to justice, but what will happen if theyíre dead?
Their judgment will take place at the feet of God, and may He have mercy on their souls.
They will be arriving at about the same time as the souls of the faithful departed in Texas, who didnít have time to say goodbye.
Before this nation goes to war in another Earthen place, may our leaders spend a little time working to heal the cancer that is eating all of us -- the evident lack of compassion that takes over when all the gurneys are put away.