Last Friday our world lost a group of amazing people. I don't have to detail what happened, I'm sure everyone knows by now that, on that morning, a gunman walked into Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, heavily armed, and opened fire killing 20 beautiful and innocent children, and 6 courageous and heroic staff members.
I'm not sure how my ability to feel empathy measures up to everyone else in the world, but I do know that the this tragedy in Connecticut has affected me unlike anything like it ever has. Horrible stuff happens sometimes. It has my whole life, and though it's hard to imagine in this time of tragedy, our country will certainly endure more things like this horrible event in the future. In the history of this world horrific acts of violence have dotted the timeline since the beginning. So why is this any different then other things like it? Why do I spend time crying about it as if it happened to someone in my family?
As I've pondered why this is affecting me so, I wonder if it might be because, unlike any other times, this tragic event hits me as a mother. When the Columbine tragedy happened I was a student. I was horrified and it made me sad for the victims and their families. I could somewhat relate to the kids, but only in a distant way. I could imagine being scared if that happened at my school, but it was hard to understand the emotions beyond that. When the shootings at Virginia Tech took place I was still a child in many ways. I was an adult in age, but had none of the wisdom experience has brought me now. This hits down to a core that didn't exist back then, the core of a mother. The fact that I have children whom I can't fathom loosing in such a heinous way makes my heart ache for those parents who lost beautiful children. Images of what they must be going through flash across my mind now and then bringing tears to my eyes.
I look in my closet and see the Christmas gifts bought, wrapped and tucked away for my children to bring out on Christmas Eve. I imagine a similar closet stuffed with gifts for a child that never will get to open them. I imagine a stockings hung with care for a child that wont see it on Christmas morning stuffed with goodies, and how empty those parents must feel as they look upon those things. As I prepare meals for my family I imagine the anguish of the families who are setting one less plate now at meal time. As I am doing my laundry this morning I consider what it would be like to look at the little clothes those children will never wear again. I think about my children when it thunders. How scared they get. The fierceness with which they call for my embrace, and comfort. I can't get out of my head how scared those children must have been in their final moments, and how much their parents must be especially thinking about those moments, and wondering what their child felt in them. The overwhelming fear that they might have been suffering, calmed only by the small comfort that it couldn't have been for long if they did My children aren't much younger than the victims. I can't imagine not hearing their laughs, or their voices each day. I can't imagine them calling out to me and me not coming to their side. I can't imagine the pain of enduring life without them. A parent shouldn't have to outlive their child. It doesn't seem natural. I can't imagine their pain. Attempting to makes me want to cry.
I wish there were something I could do to make it right for these families. Even if I had every resource imaginable at my disposal I know there would be little, if anything, I could do to help, but I can offer my love, even if they don't know me, and never read this post. I can offer my prayer for the kind of comfort only Heavenly Father can give. I can offer a kind gesture in the name of honoring those lost. I've heard it requested that we offer moments of silence. I think that is a wonderful gesture, but I know if it were me that lost a loved one the silence would be stabbing and almost painful. I think about the contagious laughter of children, and their natural ability to love unconditionally and their innate desire to serve others. How better to honor those children then to draw from their example and unconditionally love and serve our neighbors.
I pray for us as a nation, that we might always remember these precious souls and as the political debates about gun control, mental illness, and violence in schools, surely ensue that we might remember how we all united upon hearing this sad news. That when someone talked about how horrible it was we didn't think about what their political stance might be; we just agreed. That we might remember the love we felt for perfect strangers that day without regard to their political or religious beliefs. That we might remember our president spoke as a father, not a politician, that his tears were genuine, even if we don't agree with all of his politics. Might we make an effort to respect the privacy and sacred healing of those families and not intrude. God bless these families, and God bless this wonderful nation.
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