• Home
  • Blog
  • About
  • Contact
  • Book
    • Email
    • Facebook
    • Instagram
    • Pinterest
    • Twitter

Brittany L. Bergman

Savoring motherhood, building marriage, and living simply

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • Twitter

Light a Match

Nov 15 Leave a Comment

After seeing the news on Facebook about the Pittsburgh synagogue shooting, I sank into my living room chair, phone glued to my hand as I scrolled for more information about what had happened and why. My shoulders began to shake under the weight of what had been lost; tears fell as I succumbed to the darkness that seemed to be enveloping our world.

This has become a pattern for me lately: feel shattered by a current event, express my outrage and lament over the state of the world, build up a sense of normalcy in the aftermath, watch as that sense of normalcy is obliterated by the next tragedy. In these moments, the weight of deeply flawed human systems is crushing, extinguishing every bit of hope and leaving me fumbling around in the darkness.

This time, I texted a dear friend the simple words: “I can’t.” We exchanged a few messages and found ourselves getting even more worked up as we discussed the other violent events from the week: pipe bombs sent in the mail and another shooting at a Kroger in Kentucky. A few minutes later, she texted back, “I’m sorry if you were looking for someone to be optimistic and hopeful,” to which I replied, “I wasn’t! I just needed to know I wasn’t alone in the darkness.”

When terrible things happen — whether in my life or in the world at large — I tend to get stuck inside my own head, at least for the first few days. I replay events over and over in my mind; I imagine what it would have been like to be there, to witness the horror of the moment; I withdraw from the people around me as I try to process the pain. No good usually comes of this. Often, I become increasingly fatalistic and begin to believe that there is no hope.

But on this day, simply by finding someone who was there in the darkness with me, I felt hope ignite.

Instead of letting the day’s news fester inside me, instead of drawing deeper into myself and shutting everyone out, I reached out to a friend, trusting somehow that she would grab hold of my hand. We were both feeling hopeless, to be sure, but in feeling hopeless together we were able to recover some small sparks of goodness too: that we weren’t alone, that we were both broken for our fellow humans, and that we wouldn’t stop caring or become desensitized, no matter how frequently we hear about this kind of tragedy.

Perhaps the most rebellious thing we can do in the face of tragedy is not to naively believe it will all be OK, but to acknowledge that we’re stumbling around in the unknown. To light a match in solidarity with each other and in defiance of the darkness. To hold fast to one another as a source of hope.

After all, God has pressed his image and likeness into each one of us. By looking to each other, we look to the goodness and hopefulness of God and we remind each other who we are: people who are charged with bringing the kingdom of heaven to earth – not someday, but right now.

Surely there will be another moment, probably sooner than I would expect, that will extinguish my hope and cause me to feel alone once again. But now I know where to find my fellow humans: in the darkness with me, ready to light a match and find the way out.


This piece was originally posted on The MOPS Blog, a site I love and contribute to regularly.

Share the love:

  • Share
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)

Related

Filed Under: Life Tagged With: culture, current events, hope, loss, mops, tragedy

« Gender Reveal + 1st Trimester Update
15 Tips for Doing Disney World with a Toddler »




I'm so glad you're here. This space is all about encouraging women to live simply and intentionally, savor motherhood, choose gratitude, and find sacredness in the everyday moments. I hope you'll grab your cuppa choice and stay a while. I'd love to get to know you.
  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • Twitter
Do you want to be more intentional about how you mother and how you care for yourself?
Subscribe today for encouragement and support!


brittanylbergman

Brittany L. Bergman
The last day of school hit different this year. 💔 My tears at kindergarten graduation were not about how my first baby is growing up too fast. They were tears of gratitude that she’s growing up at all—something that should not feel spectacular, but does.

Swipe for some first day/last day comparisons and an outtake that I adore. 💜
There was a huge, complete rainbow outside Eamon’s bedroom window after his birthday party, and I can’t think of a better celestial celebration for our rainbow baby/big boy. 🌈
Our little Eamon baby is 3! 🎉 Though he will be Our little Eamon baby is 3! 🎉 Though he will be the first to tell you that he is not a baby—he is Eamon Boy, and he is a big kid.

Eamon is sweet and wild and silly and will do anything for a laugh, instantly charming everyone he meets. He is just as likely to tackle you as he is to request a hug and a kiss.

Eamon talks all the time and stretches out the last word of every sentence like it’s a question, but he also loves to communicate with roars and growls. No surface or object is safe around him, as he climbs and jumps off everything and will declare anything from a pillow to a plate his “rock” and throw it like he’s an Earth Giant in Frozen (we’re working on it).

He is obsessed with Dan, smitten with Selah, and thinks I’m just okay, at best—but he is my best buddy if the other two are unavailable.

This past year, Eamon went to Six Flags, Lake Geneva, and Disney World, and he has mastered his balance bike. Basically, he always wants to go fast and/or get as close to flying as possible.

Eamon, you are pure joy and delight, the brightest ray of sunshine, and the dreamiest rainbow baby. Happy birthday, my sweet boy! ☀️🌈💜
Or, “What does it say about me that the first po Or, “What does it say about me that the first poem I’ve written in a year is a list of things that make up my personal hell and I actually had to cut this down because I had so many/too many thoughts on the topic?” It’s fine, everything is fine.
This year was absolutely brutal. It also facilitat This year was absolutely brutal. It also facilitated some of the best decisions of my life, many born out of deep pain. Starting a new job, because the old one no longer fit. Getting vaccinated, to protect myself and others as we muddle through another pandemic year. All but quitting writing and social media, because I simply didn’t want to do it anymore. Most importantly, starting on Zoloft, because I needed it desperately. Those tiny blue pills quite literally saved my life.

The first half of 2021 was one of my darkest seasons, and the second half—thanks to modern medicine and my own intuition and the possibility of remote work, thanks to Selah starting kindergarten and me taking care of myself and being able to look at my kids and truly delight in them for the first time in a long time—was one of my happiest ever.

Holding both halves tenderly as we cross this next threshold. 💜
Selah Marie is 6! She started kindergarten this ye Selah Marie is 6! She started kindergarten this year and firmly entered world of big kids. Her confidence in every area has skyrocketed, from climbing her new playground to sounding out words to talking to new friends. She blows us away every day with her kind heart, generous spirit, and innate sense of empathy. She is tenderhearted, curious, affectionate, and hard to impress, and we adore her more every day. Happy birthday, Selah! 🧁 🎉 💜
Load More... Follow on Instagram

Disclaimer

Brittany L Bergman is a for-profit blog. Any company that I collaborate with is chosen by me and fits the theme and readership of my blog. At times, posts may contain affiliate links or sponsored content, which is never at any charge to you.

Archives

Copyright Brittany L Bergman © 2022
Blog Design + Development by Grace + Vine Studios

This website uses cookies to provide you with the best browsing experience.

Find out more or adjust your settings.

Brittany L. Bergman
Powered by  GDPR Cookie Compliance
Privacy Overview

This website uses cookies so that we can provide you with the best user experience possible. Cookie information is stored in your browser and performs functions such as recognizing you when you return to our website and helping our team to understand which sections of the website you find most interesting and useful.

You can adjust all of your cookie settings by navigating the tabs on the left hand side.

Strictly Necessary Cookies

Strictly Necessary Cookie should be enabled at all times so that we can save your preferences for cookie settings.

If you disable this cookie, we will not be able to save your preferences. This means that every time you visit this website you will need to enable or disable cookies again.