Saturday, 15 December 2012
Like the rest of the world, my heart is heavy. As I go through motions of my regular day, the victims of the Sandy Hook School shooting are on my heart and in my prayers. My heart actually hurts. I have shed tears for strangers and I just cannot seem to make them stop.
I have the same questions as everyone else. Why?? How? They were just babies.
When my older girls were first born, I avoided news media in any way shape or form for a good three years. It sent my anxiety sky high as I immediately went to my “what if’ place. As mothers, once we have children our hearts are forever on our sleeves. As such, now I cannot stop my brain from placing my children in that school and my relentless imagination takes me there in perfect detail over and over and over again. My mind is my own enemy today.
And I weep.
I weep for the ones that were killed and I pray by the grace of God it was quick and not one baby suffered. I weep for their parents and families. Any time of year this would be tragic, but in my mind I know there are Christmas presents hiding in a closet, basement or attic somewhere, never to be wrapped, shaken or open in anticipation. No picture will be taken of the sheer delight on the face of a little one who believes in love and all that is perfect and good as their Santa wish list just came true.
I weep for the children that watched or heard the evil, yet were spared. They will be forever changed. They were told to close their eyes. I wonder what they will see and hear every time they close their eyes now and every night as long as they live.
I weep for the educators and adults in the school that lost their lives. They too have families, many with little ones who no longer have a mother. They are being called heroes. And they are. But my guess is they were already heroes to their own children and definitely as people who chose to educate others children as their career.
I weep for the shooters family. What was his own mother’s last moments on earth like? Are there words to describe her own grief as she was forsaken by her son? Did she question every moment of parenting for 20 years?
I weep for my own children as they try and wrap their heads and hearts around our world. I weep as they ask me questions that I have no answers too. I weep when my own baby asks me if she is safe at her school.
And I pray.
I pray for my American neighbours Leaders. I pray for the victim’s families. I pray for the survivors and their families. I pray for the first responders and a mourning community. I pray for peace and safety in this world we are leaving to our children.
I pray for no more violence. Simply no more.
And I am thankful.
I know this blog is a comical look at parenting. But today, I write because I am so blessed and thankful.
I am thankful for children that need to be nagged to do their chores. I am thankful for mountains of laundry and dirty dishes left on counters. I am thankful for upside down milk and moldy swimsuits. I am thankful for boy band posters and raging hormones. I am thankful for homemade ornaments and un-matching Christmas Trees. I am thankful for siblings fighting and school concerts.
I am thankful for these things because it is a tangible reminder that all is normal and they are alive and well.
I am thankful for my children who also wept when they heard the news and for their soft hearts and open minds. I am thankful for the privilege of being their mom and the ability to laugh and be a family.
Tonight, I cannot make light of this parenting charge. For now I just hold them tight and for the time being they just let me, without even one eye roll.
Sleep in heavenly peace little ones.