They are us

Many people brought flowers to our vigil last night. A young brother and sister had made cards with hearts that read "they are us". It's a line our Prime Minister said on Friday and it's resonated.

What to do with all the flowers and cards? I collected them up last night, put them in a basin with water, and put it in my boot. I'd already made the decision that I'd drive rather than bus today. (I keep on pretending that I have some control in this world).

At work I popped a message on our internal communication channel. I asked if anyone wanted to come with me at lunchtime to help take flowers from my neighbourhood to the area where tributes to those killed and injured are laid.

20 colleagues came. We all carried flowers and cards from my neighbourhood and walked together.

I didn't get to the end of the tributes along this fence. Others like us came from their offices with flowers. We all looked stressed, bewildered, and sad. We were glad we went.

I found it reverent, sacred even. I didn't want to move in front of others to take photos, or to document other's grief. And I certainly didn't want to stray anywhere near the international media camped out on Rolleston Ave. I was reminded of similar scenes I've seen on the news in places like London and Manchester. But this is here.

I had no intention of going to the tributes as I was unsure how it would impact me. I had no intention of ever organising a vigil. I didn't feel qualified or adequate. Somehow I've done both.

It was the right thing to go today and I'm blessed that so many from work came with me.

Today's gratitude: For gentle encounters.

Peace