Last Friday's shooting really got to me. I know that is not a profound statement- it got to all of us. But of all the sad news days from the last 15 years or so- Columbine, 9/11, Aurora, Portland, and all the others in between that are too numerous to remember and write down, this one last week hit me right in the center of my being. I had to leave Roo playing in her room once or twice and escape to the bathroom to have a cry. Couldn't hold it in. Couldn't let her know why I was upset.
Most of that was a parents' reaction. I think a lot of us are experiencing an overwhelming empathy for the parents of the families who dropped their kids off at school that day and drove off. That's something we all do. We all drive our kids to school where we bid them goodbye. We trust that at three we'll see them again so we drive off. We all drive off.
It's hard to wrap your brain around it.
There was also the fact that I used to be a teacher. All day, as the news broke and we learned that most of the shooting was done inside a first grade classroom, my thoughts were affected by an unwanted filter of personal knowledge. Were they in the middle of The Gingerbread Man unit? Were the walls decorated with colorful paper chains counting down Christmas? Was there a bucket somewhere in that classroom filled with jingle bell bracelets, waiting to be worn and shook at a holiday performance? All these intrusive morbid thoughts (and worse) pervaded my thinking.
When it was time for me to pick up my own kids from school, I was practically climbing the walls. I felt nuts. The last thing I wanted to do was to return back to the house, where the darkened television would loom and where I would try my best to forget about the fact that if I turned it on I'd be bombarded with more news. More facts I didn't want to know. More sadness.
So instead I drove us to the movies.
Escapism. That was my strategy.
The movie we chose to see was Rise of the Guardians. I thought a holiday movie about Santa Claus would make the kids happy and cheer me up at the same time. However, I realized fifteen minutes into the movie that the parallels from the movie to the days events would be too numerous to ignore. Turns our that Rise of the Guardians was about a magical group of legends whose job it was to keep the innocence of the world's children safe from darkness and fear.
So much for escapism.
I couldn't leave. I couldn't sob in front of the kids- even though that's exactly what I felt like doing. I guess I could've sat there and grieved and fought off more dark scary thoughts- but I was doing that at home anyway. So I stayed. I settled into it. I quieted my mind. I even thought that maybe, perhaps, I'd get some answers.
I kind of did.
Except that when I sat down to write about it, I couldn't express myself. So I tried again on Sunday. Again, the right words weren't coming. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, same story. But today, Thursday, I think I've found the words. I think I know what I want to say. Bear with me.
Before last Friday, on Friday, and everyday since then, my kids' world has been this: they wake up, get dressed, they argue about some silly stuff, and then we go to school. There, they learn. They do art projects. They go to music class. They play at recess with their friends. They laugh. They play. They get to be kids.
When they come home we do homework, we hang out, they play outside. Usually once a day someone cries about something- a scraped knee, an onery sibling, a pile of laundry (that's usually me.) Sometimes there's some family drama, but usually it's normal everyday stuff and when I tuck them into bed, they have a smile on their face.
That's their world. The shooting hasn't changed that. Yet.
This morning, one of the headlines on Good Morning America was this: BULLETPROOF BACKPACKS FOR SCHOOLCHILDREN AND ARMED TEACHERS
And that's when I knew what to write.
So. America. Yes. Let's get our kids some bullet proof backpacks. But why stop there? A deranged gunman can strike anywhere in public, as we've had the misfortune of learning. So let's outfit our kids everyday in bulletproof vests. Let's put the vests on them, let's put the backpacks on them, let's arm their teachers and then let's send them out into THAT world. A world filled with fear and darkness. A world where we let decisions be made out of fear. A world where, because faith is absent, we have to control, control, control as much as we can (MORE GUNS! BULLETPROOF EVERYTHING!) because it's too hard for us to accept that we're not really in charge. Bad things happen. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I wish they didn't, but they do. We can't stop bad things from happening. It's just part of being human, part of existing in this universe.
What does all this have to do with the movie I saw? Let me 'splain.
In Rise of the Guardians, Santa had this image of a globe with lights representing children around the world. The children were the light. Do you get it? Do you see it? I don't think you have to have kids to know that innocence and goodness are most of what makes our children so special. In fact, I would say this is true for any creature that loves so trustingly, so innocently, so unconditionally. Pets can be this way too. And I really think that the truth of this goodness can be measured by the intensity of our instinct to protect it. Why else would that instinct be so strong? Why else would those teachers and administrators lay down their lives to protect those kids? It's precious. It's sacred. It's worth protecting, infinity times over.
When we raise our kids, we know that we eventually have to release them into the chaos of the adult world. But because we know how precious their childhood is, we mete out the lessons of the adult world in small increments. And we give them a space for magic. We tell them about Santa Claus. We let them believe in the tooth fairy. Because, as The Rise of the Guardians taught me, a child's faith can make magical things real. Santa may not be a true physical form, but just the mere act in believing in him creates a very tangible love and magic that spreads every holiday season. As adults, we tend to forget about all that magic the minute the season is over-but kids don't. They keep that magic happening all year long, and it brings us joy. We love it. We need it.
So I'm ready. I'm ready to believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, dandelion wishes, jumping over cracks, wishing on a star, crossing fingers, and anything else that simply requires faith. I also believe in Jesus. After all, he says "Truly, I say unto you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:3.
See? He gets what I'm saying. We need children to remind us of the wonder and goodness in the world. That's the world we need.
Those of you who've read me for a while know that these are ironic words. From a girl who has spent the last three holiday seasons writing about how much she hates playing the Santa game and lamenting the fact that she's so bad at it, this is a 180. But I'm ready now. Because the world I want, the one I feel like my kids deserve, is one that is filled with happiness and magic and positivity. One where people aren't making decisions out of fear. A world that's focused on the light.
Glennon over at momastery has a saying that is especially wise right now: "When the world feels too loud, we must be quiet. When the world feels too violent, we must be peaceful. When the world seems evil, we must be good." I don't know if those are her words or someone else's, but my wish is that people would take some time to consider them. Stop the noise and be peaceful. Be good, be kind. That's the best way to honor the victims of Sandy Hook. There's only one thing that I can think of that would be worse than losing a child, and that would be losing a child and then having the world use that as an excuse to fall into darkness and despair. Please, can we honor the victims the right way? Can we be quiet and good for a while? Then, maybe after our hearts are settled we can make decisions about the grown up stuff. Until then, let's just be quiet. Let's be still. Let's take in the magic and the goodness and the joy of our kids today.
Thanks for sticking with me and reading all this. I'm so grateful to all of you
Peace on earth, and good night.
P.S- If you don't know where to start looking for the good stuff, I'd direct you to here. And here. And this quote here. Those are all places I went this last week when I needed to load up on the world's goodness.
Most of that was a parents' reaction. I think a lot of us are experiencing an overwhelming empathy for the parents of the families who dropped their kids off at school that day and drove off. That's something we all do. We all drive our kids to school where we bid them goodbye. We trust that at three we'll see them again so we drive off. We all drive off.
It's hard to wrap your brain around it.
There was also the fact that I used to be a teacher. All day, as the news broke and we learned that most of the shooting was done inside a first grade classroom, my thoughts were affected by an unwanted filter of personal knowledge. Were they in the middle of The Gingerbread Man unit? Were the walls decorated with colorful paper chains counting down Christmas? Was there a bucket somewhere in that classroom filled with jingle bell bracelets, waiting to be worn and shook at a holiday performance? All these intrusive morbid thoughts (and worse) pervaded my thinking.
When it was time for me to pick up my own kids from school, I was practically climbing the walls. I felt nuts. The last thing I wanted to do was to return back to the house, where the darkened television would loom and where I would try my best to forget about the fact that if I turned it on I'd be bombarded with more news. More facts I didn't want to know. More sadness.
So instead I drove us to the movies.
Escapism. That was my strategy.
The movie we chose to see was Rise of the Guardians. I thought a holiday movie about Santa Claus would make the kids happy and cheer me up at the same time. However, I realized fifteen minutes into the movie that the parallels from the movie to the days events would be too numerous to ignore. Turns our that Rise of the Guardians was about a magical group of legends whose job it was to keep the innocence of the world's children safe from darkness and fear.
So much for escapism.
I couldn't leave. I couldn't sob in front of the kids- even though that's exactly what I felt like doing. I guess I could've sat there and grieved and fought off more dark scary thoughts- but I was doing that at home anyway. So I stayed. I settled into it. I quieted my mind. I even thought that maybe, perhaps, I'd get some answers.
I kind of did.
Except that when I sat down to write about it, I couldn't express myself. So I tried again on Sunday. Again, the right words weren't coming. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, same story. But today, Thursday, I think I've found the words. I think I know what I want to say. Bear with me.
Before last Friday, on Friday, and everyday since then, my kids' world has been this: they wake up, get dressed, they argue about some silly stuff, and then we go to school. There, they learn. They do art projects. They go to music class. They play at recess with their friends. They laugh. They play. They get to be kids.
When they come home we do homework, we hang out, they play outside. Usually once a day someone cries about something- a scraped knee, an onery sibling, a pile of laundry (that's usually me.) Sometimes there's some family drama, but usually it's normal everyday stuff and when I tuck them into bed, they have a smile on their face.
That's their world. The shooting hasn't changed that. Yet.
This morning, one of the headlines on Good Morning America was this: BULLETPROOF BACKPACKS FOR SCHOOLCHILDREN AND ARMED TEACHERS
And that's when I knew what to write.
So. America. Yes. Let's get our kids some bullet proof backpacks. But why stop there? A deranged gunman can strike anywhere in public, as we've had the misfortune of learning. So let's outfit our kids everyday in bulletproof vests. Let's put the vests on them, let's put the backpacks on them, let's arm their teachers and then let's send them out into THAT world. A world filled with fear and darkness. A world where we let decisions be made out of fear. A world where, because faith is absent, we have to control, control, control as much as we can (MORE GUNS! BULLETPROOF EVERYTHING!) because it's too hard for us to accept that we're not really in charge. Bad things happen. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I wish they didn't, but they do. We can't stop bad things from happening. It's just part of being human, part of existing in this universe.
What does all this have to do with the movie I saw? Let me 'splain.
In Rise of the Guardians, Santa had this image of a globe with lights representing children around the world. The children were the light. Do you get it? Do you see it? I don't think you have to have kids to know that innocence and goodness are most of what makes our children so special. In fact, I would say this is true for any creature that loves so trustingly, so innocently, so unconditionally. Pets can be this way too. And I really think that the truth of this goodness can be measured by the intensity of our instinct to protect it. Why else would that instinct be so strong? Why else would those teachers and administrators lay down their lives to protect those kids? It's precious. It's sacred. It's worth protecting, infinity times over.
When we raise our kids, we know that we eventually have to release them into the chaos of the adult world. But because we know how precious their childhood is, we mete out the lessons of the adult world in small increments. And we give them a space for magic. We tell them about Santa Claus. We let them believe in the tooth fairy. Because, as The Rise of the Guardians taught me, a child's faith can make magical things real. Santa may not be a true physical form, but just the mere act in believing in him creates a very tangible love and magic that spreads every holiday season. As adults, we tend to forget about all that magic the minute the season is over-but kids don't. They keep that magic happening all year long, and it brings us joy. We love it. We need it.
So I'm ready. I'm ready to believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, dandelion wishes, jumping over cracks, wishing on a star, crossing fingers, and anything else that simply requires faith. I also believe in Jesus. After all, he says "Truly, I say unto you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:3.
See? He gets what I'm saying. We need children to remind us of the wonder and goodness in the world. That's the world we need.
Those of you who've read me for a while know that these are ironic words. From a girl who has spent the last three holiday seasons writing about how much she hates playing the Santa game and lamenting the fact that she's so bad at it, this is a 180. But I'm ready now. Because the world I want, the one I feel like my kids deserve, is one that is filled with happiness and magic and positivity. One where people aren't making decisions out of fear. A world that's focused on the light.
Glennon over at momastery has a saying that is especially wise right now: "When the world feels too loud, we must be quiet. When the world feels too violent, we must be peaceful. When the world seems evil, we must be good." I don't know if those are her words or someone else's, but my wish is that people would take some time to consider them. Stop the noise and be peaceful. Be good, be kind. That's the best way to honor the victims of Sandy Hook. There's only one thing that I can think of that would be worse than losing a child, and that would be losing a child and then having the world use that as an excuse to fall into darkness and despair. Please, can we honor the victims the right way? Can we be quiet and good for a while? Then, maybe after our hearts are settled we can make decisions about the grown up stuff. Until then, let's just be quiet. Let's be still. Let's take in the magic and the goodness and the joy of our kids today.
Thanks for sticking with me and reading all this. I'm so grateful to all of you
Peace on earth, and good night.
P.S- If you don't know where to start looking for the good stuff, I'd direct you to here. And here. And this quote here. Those are all places I went this last week when I needed to load up on the world's goodness.
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