I cried.

Yesterday, after posting about Norway, I cried. Not just a tear, but long, gut-wrenching sobs. Uncontrollable sobs that wore me out and turned my eyes to slits surrounded by puffy lids. I realized that what I was crying for the most were the families of all of those children. The parents who will never see their babies again. Good parents, encouraging their children to be involved in their government and their country. I don't care what Anders Behring Breivik believes in, or what makes him mad, or how much his government frustrates him. There is ABSOLUTELY NO EXCUSE for taking the life of another human being, especially a child. Yes, it is 100 times worse to take the life of a child, and I believe that there is a special place in Hell for people who do so.

Crying for the parents of Norway helped me to feel connected to them--no that it's about me, but it felt important to me to somehow let myself go into the dark place that they are in right now. But the cry also purged my own wicked thoughts about wanting this murderer dead. Just as it was not his place to decide when 86 children die, it is not our place to decide his fate. I know, and I am firmly rooted in this fact, that God will judge him according to his deeds and he will, most certainly, receive just punishment for his sins. This doesn't make me less sad about what has happened. In some ways it makes me angrier and more frustrated, knowing that true justice in this situation will only come from God and is not something that I can order. But there is also peace in knowing that God's loving hand will protect us when Jesus comes again and calls His sheep home for good.