Compassion, ya'll.

Ok, so the title doesn't quite scream out intelligence. Matter of fact, I probably need to change it. (No, Jenny, just roll with it.)  I'm going into a small tad of Tuesday morning, social-media confession, I scan my Facebook from my smart phone in the mornings before I arise. (Guilty.) I lie and tell myself it's for news purposes. (I know. I know. It's a lie.) A top story shared by KARK and Fox16 provides the details of an Arkansas Death Row Inmate's death at our local county hospital. I click the link. Joe Dansby, a convicted man of Capitol Murder (2 counts), died. Then, I scroll the comments. (WHY? Why else, it's social media. No really, why did I subject myself to that?)  There it begins. The comments. My heart is empty sick as if my heart had vomited as violent as first trimester morning sickness or bad buffet meat.  As it is, my mind bounces back between the created images of the victims to Mr. Dansby's crimes to inmate photo of Mr. Dansby to the mourning Dansby family to comments of  "saving tax payers money" and (this one... really got me, you may want to skip it.) "kill them all." (I forewarned you.) Death. Death is a loss regardless of the point of origin. My mind again begins to fill with images, only this time, with the images of the cross. My Savior there between the two other convicted men, the compassion that flowed from the middle cross and continues to flow today. Where would I be without that compassion? I'll can guess. LOST. DONE. DEATH. And a good chance with my road rage and other female contributed anger, possibly a convict with the ADC. (Joking, but you get my point*.) Compassion somehow gets mixed with judgment to make an ugly color. My mind holds compassion as this brilliant red that washes everything white, pure, gracefully sparkling; isn't that how it worked over 2000 years ago.  (And still working today I might add!) Then my minds rushes to the thief on the cross, what his face may have looked like, possibly like Inmate Dansby, to the crowd that appeared that day to watch those on the crosses suffer and die. Then I want to comment, "Compassion, ya'll." Jesus did it. Hello. (or HelllllRRR in my bestest Madea voice) That means we ALL should too!

2 Corinthians 1:3-4 Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. 

**Dear Reader.
I  too have many moments of non-compassion of which my Savior and I chat about on a daily basis. If you are reading this, you have probably witnesses some of the ugly. Please consider this as my disclaimer.
The Chief Sinner, Jenny. →→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→