Life is hard.

And makes no sense.

I got up early today.  Felt rested, good.  I had wonderful plans for the work day, all that I would get done in these last few days.  I was ready for a good day.

But sometimes we are reminded that life is bigger than us.  And sometimes, another's life intrudes at the most inopportune moment and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

As I got to school, and began my morning routine, I looked at the emails I had already received that morning, one of which was from the principal, entitled, "Very Important--Please read immediately."  I thought, what a ploy.  I've seen this before.  Who falls for this anymore?  But since it was the principal, I decided to grant him the courtesy of at least checking what he wanted.  And that's when my rosy day hit the abyss of reality like a puny bug the windshield of a freight truck.  Splat.

On Friday, Samantha Stevens, a junior at Redwood, committed suicide by shooting herself.  I did not know her.  My only connection to her was through water polo, but we didn't really interact.  Regardless, the fact is inescapable and incompatible with our common flippant attitude toward life.  What do you do with this information?  What shelf to put it on?  What file cabinet drawer do you open?  We have no categories for suicide.  Especially not like this.  A beautiful girl, active in sports, good student, well-known on campus, well-liked.  Always happy, it seemed.  Just won a Valley Championship.  Many close friends.  Bright future.  And it is this girl that goes home for lunch on Friday afternoon, leaves a note for her family, and takes her life.  No warning.  No signs.  No one saw it coming.  What do you do with that?

As the day wore on, the burden heavied.  I was reminded again and again that life can be so hard.  I kept thinking about her family and friends.  How do you handle something like this?  And I kept rehearsing the need to be oh so sensitive and compassionate.  Unnoticed words and inadvertent actions extend in influence far beyond the immediate fallout and often act like innocent drops in a still pond that ripple out into tsunamis years down the road (how you like that mixed metaphor?).

Interesting how God gives us hands-on lab work when he shows us something.  I have been reading Job, and commenting to friends how in this last week so many people have shared with me deaths and sorrows, seemingly just to confirm what I am learning and to help me not only to comprehend with the brain, but more importantly, feel with every fiber in my body.  And now this.  I feel like throwing my hands in the air in resignation, "I get it.  Be sensitive.  Care for people.  Show compassion.  I get it."  But I'm afraid that I don't get it just yet.  But I am humbled to see that God would take such great pains to teach me such a valuable lesson.

My freshmen noticed nothing about today.  My upper class-men were heartbroken.  Many wore black ribbons in her honor.  We held a vigil for her toward evening by the pool.  A video student expressed interest in creating a memorial video for her.  It has been a hard day.  A somber day.  But necessary to wake us up to the realities of life.  Too bad so few heard the call.