At 6:30 last Friday morning I received a phone call from the Cambridge Police. Its message: don’t stir from your house.

That was certainly the first time such a call, with such an instruction, had ever come my way. But it was just one sign, among many, of a wild week.

Incidentally, the call went through because I still have a land line. Other residents of my city, dependent on their cell phones, did not receive the message. Technology can fool you, as all of us discover often.

For me, it has become almost routine in later life to experience events that I never expected to witness. On the most ordinary day, you never can tell what might happen suddenly. But this year’s Marathon, with its continuing horror and heroic responses, was unique in its impact.

A little later Friday morning, I learned on television that the fugitive brother was a graduate of our public high school, Cambridge Rindge and Latin. A few years ago, that was our daughter’s high school; several of your young neighbors attend it now.

Then, another shock: to see police clustering on one of my city’s familiar streets, and evacuating residents for fear of explosives. How was it that at least one of the alleged bombers had lived there unsuspected?

Phone calls abounded that morning. One was from California, where neighbors of ours were spending the week. I was prepared to assure them, ironically, that this had been a quiet week in Lake Woebegon. My tag line was wasted, however; thanks to national television, they knew as much as I did.

In the midst of Friday’s shocking events I still felt thankful for having watched some of Thursday’s service at the Cathedral of the Holy Cross. The eloquence of ministers and civic leaders, led by Liz Walker, revived my spirit and gave me hope.

Like other listeners, I was also held by an eloquent Muslim leader Nasser Weddady. He had become an American citizen only the previous week and he spoke beautifully about the obligations that requires of him.

The Mayor of Boston, Tom Menino, hobbled by his broken leg and struggling to stand, embodied his love for the city even before he began his extraordinarily moving speech.

His fellow speakers—among them, a Governor, a Cardinal, a rabbi and an imam—were able to touch us as well. President Obama—saying that Boston was his home, too—helped us to mourn the loss of young lives and the maiming of others. But he also expressed confident hope: “Boston, you will run again.”

My prayer is that we will run in freedom and not be crippled by fear. Acts of terrorism provoke protective responses; but we also need to guard our civil liberties, which are precious.

The terrorists have turned out to be male and young; this cannot have surprised many of us. When you are old, you understand why old people do not engage in acts of terrorism. The main reason, to my mind, is our supply of wisdom.  We recognize the foolishness of trying to get our way by bombing and shooting others.

And, though it may seem sentimental, that age has taught us love other people. From our vantage point, it seems a privilege to reach out to others and hope for them, whoever they are, the good life that we have enjoyed.

It buoys me up when I hear calls for next year’s Marathon to be a great one. Many people have promised to come to Boston and to join in celebrating the spirit of the event and the place. Yes, we can expect police galore, and annoying security procedures; but all of us will, on foot or by proxy, run again.