Last night I attended the annual Marine Ball with my husband and friends. I had been looking forward to this event for weeks as I always had the utmost admiration and respect for our Marines. This was a small way of showing my support to them.

Last Friday the chilling news about the terrorist attacks in Paris broke. I could not hold back my tears as I read the horrifying details. In cold blood. ISIS. Innocent people. Heroic love. Lives lost in a flash. No choice for the victims. Families mourning. Fear.   

Three days later, here I am fussing over which gown I should wear. Burying myself inside my wardrobe closet, I deliberated on which color, what length, or style of outfit I should pick. Am I insensitive, insane, or just plain robotic? Yet I listened to my own thoughtful arguments... stay at home, be quiet, and mourn. Or go out and celebrate. Celebrate what? Oh yes, I am alive! I am spared and truly blessed. Yet why do I feel so mournful and vulnerable? Many times, and lately oftentimes, I ask - where is God in all these atrocities? Is he hiding? Does he continue to give the freedom of choice to the fallen angels? Does it have anything to do with Satan, in his ageless style of destruction of the good, challenging God and His power? Does Satan work within the dynamics of fanaticism, that which persuades the human mind to end lives for the sake of that belief? A part of me is struggling to find some light in this darkened path.

A long time ago I found one refuge that shields me from anything that makes me afraid. I do as I preach... the science of prayer. Today I question - is this science a mere hypothesis?
 
Another day, another blessing. A part of me decided to go out and attend the ball. The rest of me I buried deeply in my subconscious. I paused, breathed.

I danced the night away.