There are times we can’t bear more bad news. We can’t even fathom it still snowing at the end of April, let alone accepting an announcement that another priest – our priest – has been removed because of allegations of sexual abuse.

Where will they end, these revelations within the Catholic Church, which have rocked parishioners from their pews as if moved to tears in charismatic response? Yet nothing that is happening resembles spiritual uplifting.

It continues to snow on this late Sunday afternoon, April 28, when the only cheerful sign in the house is a bouquet of bright yellow jonquils picked by a friend before the heavy snow last Friday.

Our tears are borne of sorrow, for they mourn another loss.

In all crises, there are those who get mad, those who get even. We saw those stricken faces in the aftermath of Sept. 11, the many sufferers who had lost so much the only thing left was revenge.

But some of us solely felt sadness – a grief so consuming it overwhelmed the other reactions of anger or outrage … or courage … or fear. It was with a profound, pervasive sadness we moved through that early period in the days, weeks, and months following.

Since that day, there have been so many other occasions when we’ve merely felt sad. Not decrying the sudden death of a friend as injustice, nor raising enraged fists at the heavens above in the wake of a tragedy. Not blaming anything or anyone for the loss, but rather, feeling enveloped by sadness more permeating than dense, summer fog.

Strangely it seems, the older we grow, the less sense we can make of some things. Our feelings are confused, and we often find ourselves not knowing what to think. Nor how to apply logic or reason with which to calculate certain situations.

In our youth, our narrow view distinguished blacks and whites, not grays. We saw rights, wrongs … and no in between. How certain we were of our ensconced positions and how unwilling we were for them to be challenged.

This evening, snowflakes still fall. The sky beyond them is gray.

We think of the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, and we forever will see the contrasts of black and white between good and evil. But we may look at the Middle East turmoil as a gray area, Afghanistan as a gray area. Peace and war as a gray area. The upheaval within the Catholic Church as a gray area. Accusations and proof as a gray area. The wrongs committed and atonement as a gray area.

Condemnation and forgiveness as a gray area.

Just about the only clear thing, black and white as piano keys, is the sadness all of it has brought: another loss, another loss, another loss, another loss, another loss … .