Perspective

If you come here to read goofy observations or tales of silly doings, I'm sorry to tell this won't be one of those posts. But it's one I feel pressed to write. Not because I have anything new to add to the dialogue. Just simply because I need to work through the pervading melancholy I have felt over the past several days.

I got onto the computer to check my email at about 9:40 Friday morning, which is much earlier than I usually do. The Yahoo homepage headline fairly screamed at me. At the time, the information was still incomplete, but horrific nonetheless: 18 children [soon numbered at 20] plus 6 adults gunned down at an elementary school in Connecticut.

The news hit me hard. I felt sick. I felt sad. I was dazed. I couldn't concentrate. I worried. Of course my thoughts went to my own children. Had I hugged each of them before they left for school? Had I told them I love them? Had I spoken gently or sent them off in a rush of hasty words? Were they safe? I knew I still had to take Morgan to kindergarten. How could I watch her walk through those doors without the absolute knowledge it would be a haven?

I don't normally cater to fear. I don't usually stay down for long. But these events affected me deeply. I got Morgan ready for school and hugged and kissed her till she squirmed out of my arms. "Mom, I have to go to school. I have to learn!" Afterwards I sat down for lunch, bowed my head to bless it and pray for the grieving families and neighbors in Newtown, and sobbed.

I thought about my neighborhood school. I have friends who work there. Just in my little circle of 50ish homes, I can think of at least 5 people who are employed by the school. Many more can be found volunteering at the school on any given day. Widen the perimeter and I know a great percentage of the people who work, volunteer, and send their children to our school. I interact with many of the children there as well. I go to church with them. I have been their scout leader. I teach them piano lessons. My kids play with them. I've volunteered in their classrooms. When I walk through the halls, they say hi and give me high-fives. If something like Shady Hook was to happen here, it is impossible that I would not be directly impacted in a personal, horrible way.

I thought about how many of my close friends have chosen to be teachers. In my book club alone, for example, there are 7 current or former teachers. They are dedicated to their profession and love their students, and I have no doubt that if faced with a life-threatening crisis, they would place themselves between their students and any danger. If something like Shady Hook was to happen at any of their schools, it is again frighteningly likely that I would be impacted in a horrible way.

I thought about the shooting only a few days before in the Portland mall. It was a mall I shopped at once or twice as a teenager, and the shoppers there could have been people I know. I recalled learning about the Thurston High School shooting in Springfield, Oregon in 1998. I had been on vacation in Argentina, and when we got on the airplane to return home, I saw the newspaper headline. I had friends who went to that high school. I attended sporting events and plays there. The victims could have been people I know. These types of events are no longer things that happen only to other people far away. They happen anywhere and to people who could be my friends and neighbors.

I thought about a recent news headline about a terrorist setting off a car bomb near a school in Syria, killing several children and others. I felt there was little reaction to this event, though it was in the news, as if it was just standard procedure for a place like that. Where is the uproar and horror that should be attached to any circumstance where innocent people are threatened and killed? Just because it happened in a distant land and in a politically unstable part of the world, the lives are just as precious and worthy of protection and peace.

As I put my kids to bed that night, I thought of the unthinkable vacancy left in the lives of those whose children's beds will be forever empty. Suddenly having a mess to clean or behavior to correct or homework to do or groceries to buy or carpools to run didn't seem like such a chore. How can I complain about family work and responsibility when the flip side only equals emptiness? Jeremy and I also went to do some Christmas shopping that night. It felt strange to do something so ordinary and festive when other families across the nation are looking now at gifts that won't be opened on Christmas morning.

In the aftermath, our questions naturally sway toward things like: Why??? How could something so devastating happen? What must we do to prevent something similar from happening in the future? Is it a problem of gun control/lack of mental health resources/family breakdown/a culture of violence/religious decline/all of the above? These questions must be addressed, and quickly. Equally immediate for me are concerns like: How do I ensure my kids are prepared for potential crises? How do I talk to them about bad, scary things without unnecessarily frightening them? Will I make sure to learn whatever lessons from this I need to learn?

The effects of a nightmare like Shady Hook are bound to be lasting and overwhelming, even for those of us far removed from the point of the tragedy. Today I volunteered in Morgan's kindergarten class for their Christmas party. I was sitting on the floor with a small group of 5- and 6-year-olds playing a fun little game and watching the kids stuff their mouths with Skittles. Out of the blue my mind went to Shady Hook. A lump of fear struck my chest. I started mapping out escape routes and planning what I would do if our lives were in danger. Fortunately, the fear only lasted a moment. We carried on with our game. I laughed with the kids. Nothing bad happened.

For me, this is the key. Fear can't be the dominating emotion. I cannot be disabled by it. Bad things do happen, it is true. There are people in the world whose lifelong purpose seems to revolve around hurting others. Yet I want to choose to focus on a different kind. I want to seek out the angels who inevitably emerge from the dust and darkness. They are everywhere. They are the teachers who sacrificed their own lives to protect the children in harm's way. They are the first responders who got the children to safety. They are the neighbor who harbored several children and distracted them with games and stuffed animals until their parents could claim them. They are in the sincere words of our President offering comfort. They are the long-distance strangers who organize gifts and sentiments to be sent from afar. It reminds me that light always dispels darkness. Wherever light exists, darkness cannot triumph.

In the hours following the horrifying incident at Shady Hook Elementary, one thought revolved through my mind as if on a broken record. From the New Testament, Christ told his apostles in John 14:27, "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." I know for some, this is not the answer they seek. But with those words ringing in my mind, my soul recognizes its truth, and as we reel and fall and hurt and grieve and stare terror in the face, we absolutely have a choice in how we will respond. I choose to look for the angels and seek His peace.