Wednesday, December 19, 2012

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.

Believe

One of my piano students came to his lesson the other day and said, in a hushed whisper and with a knowing look in his eye:

"I just learned a terrible thing about the holiday icons!"

I, personally, have no idea what he was talking about.

Saturday, December 1, 2012

'Tis the season

My inbox these days has received a flux of invitations to spend, spend, spend on the perfect gift for the holidays. My very favorite of all time showed up today. I won't name names, but one most generous vendor advertized the following:

"Up to 0% off!"

Ha, ha, ha, ha! It's a deal!

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

A few funnies

I've been trying to keep track of some of the funny things I've heard lately, but they're starting to fade. So I'd better record what I still remember before they're gone for good.

Morgan asked me if I went to Kindergarten. I replied, "Yes."
Then she asked if I went to third grade. "Yep."
"Did you go to college?" I did. And it's a good thing, too, as she then extolled the virtues of a higher education.
"In college you learn all kinds of things, like about football, and basketball, and even baseball!"

I finished reading Morgan a bedtime story, and she started to ask for a second.
"I wish I could have have a short, super short story. Like a hundred calorie short!"

Marissa was feeling a bit under the weather and asked for chicken noodle soup for dinner. She got up for a second serving and then ate it standing at the counter. Jeremy asked why she didn't come and sit down. Aiden reasoned, "Maybe it's because she's constipated."
We all looked at him, puzzled, until Jeremy realized, "I think you mean contaminated."

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

This song's been stuck in my head ever since

Our family bought into the rage of the Seven Peaks Pass of All Passes last year, which ended up providing some unanticipated perks. One of those perks was "free" tickets to watch Fiddler on the Roof at the Scera Shell Theater this summer. The tickets available were on the same day as Jeremy and my 16th (16th!!!) anniversary. At first I thought, C'mon! I don't want to take my kids on my anniversary date. But then I got over myself and decided it would be a worthwhile family outing.

There we sat on our blankets on a lovely August evening enjoying a very polished performance when the song Sunrise, Sunset started playing. I looked back at Jeremy and we smiled. This song is significant because my mom sang it at our wedding luncheon. It hadn't even crossed my mind when we decided to see the musical, but here we were, 16 years later (16!!!), surrounded by our kids, wondering the same questions Tevye and Golde were asking in the song:
When did she get to be a beauty?
When did he grow to be so tall?
Wasn't it yesterday when they were small?
It was tender. I cannot lie.

Mazal tov!

Saturday, October 20, 2012

Summer flashback: fish tales

As the season changes and the temperatures cool, I find myself thinking back to summer. Here is something I meant to post a few months ago but neglected. While we were at the cabin we wrote letters to my brother, Spencer, who is on a mission in Wisconsin. Aiden's letter was so great I had to copy it down, and now I wish to share it. I've tried to preserve his wording and spelling as much as possible. Please enjoy.

Dear, Spencer

Me and my dad went fishing and the pole bended so far and so I reeled the fish in and it was tiney. And we went snorkel-ing. We oiled the outhouse. And also I went fishing by the shore and then all of the sudden I lost all of my bait and so I just chose to cast out my line and so it only took me two cast's and then a fish jumped in the air about at least 3 feet in the air it saw a fly and jumped to get the fly and I hirred and cast it out and hit it in the lip and I lost my breath oh wow I caught a fish and I reeled it in and took it to my dad and then about two days later I was fishing and I was chust sitting there on a rock and then there was 3 to 5 fish just right by the shore and so I reeled it in and then Marrissa came and she said hi Aiden and I said shhhhhh and then droped the worm and the bober. And waited about ten seconds and then the fish bit the worm, and then I was like woohooh but then it lost it but the fish was still not done it bit it again and it did that a couple times wait a secon-d. I forgott somthing to menchon Marissa was sitting next to me and Marissa said I don't see anithing daaaad she screamed and ther was three fish right by her left foot and then I said I told you. And then droped my bober on the shore then I caught the fish and it was bigish and littleish and they lived under the boat then I took the fish back to my dad and then the same exact thing happined in about 20 minuets after


the end
from
Aiden