First of all, if you have ANY reason in your life that that phrase "sudden traumatic death," say of someone near and dear or of child-themed hopes and dreams, makes your stomach do bellyflops, please accept RantWoman's offer of a prayer on your behalf. RantWoman will not be able to tell from a silent face whether your stomach is doing bellyflops. Please forgive RantWoman for just making assumptions willy-nilly, perhaps based on her own belly-flopping stomach.
RantWoman expects if the phrase "sudden traumatic death" or any of a number of subtopics makes your stomach do belly flops, you will need such a prayer at least once a day, more likely dozens of times a day. If reading the rest of this makes your stomach do more bellyflops, please return to the top and consider the rereading an offer for another prayer, and still another, and another, and another if you need it-- because, although RantWoman will not be able to tell based on anything on your face whether you are in distress, RantWoman DOES NOT KNOW WHEN TO QUIT.
And if talk of this sort of prayer makes your skin crawl, RantWoman is happy to offer...itch-inducing conversations about bedbugs as a distraction.
RantWoman has been blessed in recent weeks with far too many repetitions of the phrase "do not when to quit," and every single one of them has something to do with disability, with someone having considerably less than complete information and fading away before they even think to acquire it. RantWoman is TRYING still to take to heart the bit from the quotes for the Pacific Northwest Quaker Women's Theology Conference about generous distributors of God's manifold grace." The "do not know when to quit" bit: those around RantWoman seem not to be experiencing this as God's grace. Pray for them, somebody, please.
But let us try to avoid straying from cheerful topics such as Sudden Traumatic Death.
RantWoman is partly bringing her brain back slowly from the Pacific Northwest Quaker Women's Theology Conference. To do that, RantWoman is clear in a leading to talk about...sudden traumatic death, among other gnarly topics where Crace, however badly needed, sometimes stomps into situations from unexpected directions. In this case one Friend's "timid newcomer" experience stiffened RantWoman's spine and "don't know when to quit" reflex, astounding Russian novel leaps of free association and tenuous connection style, about a "timid newcomer" note on top of the Sudden Traumatic Death meditations RantWoman has selectively been inflicting on email correspondents.
Death #1. A couple weeks ago RantWoman attended this year's iteration of Accessibility Camp. This year's event was not nearly as geek-filled as last year's, but RantWoman again made some great connections. One connection occurred because during introductions RantWoman heard someone mention topics she wanted to know more of. When it was RantWoman's turn, RantWoman introduced herself and asked the person with the other interesting intro to please find RantWoman and to introduce himself in person because RantWoman darn sure was not going to be able easily to find him.
This happened over lunch in a conversation with a subtext currently common in RantWoman's experience: "what's a nice articulate person like you doing hanging out with these other crips?" RantWoman seriously DOES NOT KNOW WHEN TO QUIT about conversations where disability somehow or another always seem to pop up. RantWoman is especially aware of this thread in conversations involving people who acquire disabilities later in life but have more expectations about normalcy than some people who have grown up with their disabilities.
Maybe RantWoman exaggerates. Well, maybe but RantWoman is conscious of making the same assumptions and presumptions present in the question. Urk. During the conversation though it emerged that new contact had a sudden traumatic death story involving the murder of a relative and raising a niece because of the murder. RantWoman is pretty sure that new conversation partner probably thinks about the topic a zillion times a day so having room for it in conversation, likely is huge. Once the topic emerged though, it filled the space as with smoke rings for a moment before hearts settled, breathing returned to normal, and the rest of the conversation held the topic almost imperceptibly, never far away but calmly, not thrashing around with energy pent up in off-topic chatter.
The second sudden traumatic death on RantWoman's mind is actually several deaths, in multiple locations probably attributable, as a public health nurse RantWoman knows put it, to "a schizophrenic off his meds" in the presence of a handgun Thanks to modern news media, miracles of modern Quakers,, this sort of sudden traumatic death tends to show up over and over for awhile. RantWoman felt able to pray without needing to know very many details.
Little Sister, vby phone, over lunch, needed to supply details. The organist at Little Sister's church stopped, left her car running and various personal items inside to try to help one of the victims on a street. When it became clear the victim would die anyway, the church organist stayed with her so she would not die alone!
The Church Organist was sitting in spirit with RantWoman the next First Day, but Mass mayhem showed up again in Meeting for Worship, in a Message from A Lot of That Friend but RantWoman Has Trouble Hearing God Friend. RantWoman has Trouble Hearing God Friend offered a prayerful moment from the site of several of the shootings. RanttWoman could almost hear God, or at least prayer. Mass Mayhem showed up again at the Women's Theology Conference with prayers needed after RantWoman asked someone about her daughter who lived close to the scene of several deaths and knew several people affected.
Finally an item from a semi-private conversation with Seriously Weighty Friend who survived a terrible accident. Seriously Weighty Friend was one of the plenary speakers at the Quaker Women's Theology Conference. She spoke of saying yes to God, yes to love, yes to leadings without knowing where that might lead. She spoke of several moments in her family and political life. As she ran out of time, her words flowed in a river toward a terrible accident that killed her husband and critically injured her. The whole room was transfixed, especially since she also was scrupulous about staying within her allotted time, finishing with "We have to end but I have not even begun."
RantWoman was given happenstance and words to ask more later and was transfixed by what she heard. Seriously Weighty Friend told RantWoman that she had nearly not gone with her husband that day. She had other commitments but her husband was persuasive. Then Seriously Weighty Friend said she was glad she had gone with him, glad she had gone through everything her husband had gone through and glad she was near even though critically injured herself when he died. Now that is grace, saying Yes to Love, no matter how much it hurts.
