It’s just forty-eight hours since we first learned of the mass shooting at Robb Elementary in Uvalde, Texas--the second largest school shooting in our nation’s history. We’re grasping for answers and grappling with feelings of intense sorrow, anger and confusion. We're wanting to do something and yet may be feeling helpless. 

Clinging to our faith, we entrust those who lost their lives, and all of our lives, into God’s hands as we prayerfully discern what God may be asking of each of us at this particular hour. With this prayer I would like to share with you a special edition of “Running on Faith,” written by one of our students, Mary Margaret Schroeder '24.        ~Fr. Ryan

Today while stretching after my run, something caught my eye. As I walked over to what seemed (to my sinuses’ distress) to be a ball of pollen, I realized that I was actually looking at a bird’s nest about the size of my two hands cupped together. 

It consisted of a variety of twigs, leaves and mosses, composed with such intricacy. Each piece was woven with purpose, contributing to either the structure of the nest or its function. There was even an insulation system made up of feathers surrounding the middle, where the birds slept—and these birds slept well. In fact, these birds slept right next to where I did. 

Each morning around 5 a.m. (or closer to 4:30 in the summer), I heard the birds chirping in their nest, which was situated on the gutter right outside the window next to my bed. Their mama was a hard worker—she brought her babies Jersey’s finest worms each morning and watched with care as they fell asleep each night. She worked tirelessly during the day gathering materials to build a strong, safe nest for her kids. I can imagine that mama bird flying around the neighborhood, grabbing as many sticks as she could before flying back to add them to the nest as she sang to her babies. I can imagine her wrapping her babies under her wings on those colder nights, cuddling them close. And, I can imagine her sorrow when last night, the howling wind knocked her work of art, and her babies’ haven, out of place. 

Alongside all of you, my heart has been breaking this past week as the news has flashed headline after headline of gun violence, and, most recently, the killing of nineteen elementary school students and two teachers as well as the gunman’s grandmother. Many nests fell on Tuesday. 

I can imagine the nineteen mamas who worked tirelessly to create security for their babies, making sure they knew they were so loved, and the sorrow they must be buried in right now. I can imagine the teachers who tried so desperately to shield their babies from the howling wind—a circumstance they had no control over despite helping build up that place of safety. I can imagine the other innocent babies who will carry this trauma with them for the rest of their lives, the babies who won’t be able to sleep without nightmares or enter a school building without panic attacks. I can imagine the grief of the empty nest. 

I wish I couldn’t imagine this, but unfortunately, this type of violence has become too common to be unimaginable. 

In times like these, I find myself feeling helpless. This morning, I found the nest after it had fallen, when it was already out of place and empty. As I admired the nest on the ground and thought about the nests falling in our lives and around the world, I was also reminded of where our nests fall. Our nests fall into God’s hands. God's strong, capable hands. Though the winds howl and pull down what was beautiful, we have an all-powerful God, arms open ready to catch. Although God may not put our nests back together the way we would wish or change the wind patterns, our nests fall (even from a full story off the ground) into safety. 

As our hearts remain in pieces, and as we advocate for change, let us be conscious of the hands into which we fall. The hands that take what is broken and make it new. The hands that will catch us time and time again without fail. 

Let God hold us, hold our prayer intentions, hold our breaking hearts. Even when it is nearly impossible to find it in the world, may we find our hope in God’s unshakeable hands.

“And He took the children in His arms, placed His hands on them, and blessed them.” 

Mark 10:16