Processing. . .

I ran through tears this weekend.  After pulling on my shoes and stepping into the crisp air, I allowed myself to feel it.  Feel the weight of the tragedy of Friday.  While my feet pounded the pavement and sweat poured over my forehead, tears dripped from my eyes.  Along with an entire nation my heart aches at the profound loss so many are experiencing.  The profound loss, though on a lesser degree, we all are experiencing.  As I ran, I noticed cars traveling to various destinations and people stringing Christmas lights.  I noticed a couple walking side by side and a gentleman walking his dog.  It seemed so surreal, so normal. 

Normal feels so wrong right now, though our house feels very normal.  We’ve avoided news sources.  If the T.V. is on, it’s on Nick Jr.  We played cards, made dinner, broke up arguments, exchanged hugs and kisses, prayed for the hurting and carried on as usual.  Here and there Chad and I have gobbled up and shared snippets of the latest information with each other, but are left speechless.  There are just no words. 

I know the debates surrounding gun control, mental health, school safety, media involvement,  healthcare, God and religion carry on.  I just don’t have words.  It all seems so big, so obscure, so unreachable. 

All weekend I’ve asked myself. . . what can I do?Oh Friends, I don’t know.  Even as I write this I’m asking myself should we talk to them? Will first graders and preschoolers be talking about this?  Will they hear it from someone else?  Should we tell them before someone else does? How long can I keep them innocent?

I don’t think there is a right or wrong way to handle this. I believe how we respond to this is extremely personal and I respect that each family is making the decision that is right for their family.  As I’ve thought about this and how we will handle it, I keep coming back to this. . . I want them to believe in a world that is good. 

Maybe I’m naive.  Truth is, I score high on the “Naivete” scales on personality tests.  Irregardless, no amount of mental acrobatics will allow me to make sense out of this.  In the end, we just can’t make sense out of senseless things. 

I work in the Mental Health field and Friday’s events have left me asking myself numerous questions.  Questions about the adequacy of my field.  Questions about what really makes a difference.  I don’t have answers to the big questions, but I will tell you this.  I was absolutely moved by this commenters words on Kelle Hampton’s blog. . .  

“May
you hold your precious family close tonight. I had plans to edit photos
into the wee hours, but with the tragedy that I cannot even speak about
weighing heavily on my heart I just cannot stop being with Levi and
Zara. We are off to camp in front of the TV on the pull out, all 4 of
us, in Santa Hats. I feel so lucky, yet guilty. So many innocent
families will never lay eyes or hands upon their little ones again, this
holiday for them I cannot even imagine. But, as a mom I just “go there”
and feel such incredible heartache. As hard as it is, may you also let
the tragedy soak into your mind and heart long enough to feel the need
to do more, more than send thoughts or prayers, but to do something. I
have been
moved, and want to do one small thing to prevent one more incident like
this from happening in our country again. If you feel the same, I have A
Challenge. We all can help. In addition to the obvious: making guns a
privilege rather than a right and harder than hell to acquire, we can
help people like this shooter. Many want to hate this man. But, what if
he was helped? Many shooters, like the theater shooter earlier this
year, do not even have friends to interview. That should not come as a
shock. Our church had a talk a few weeks ago about baby Jesus and the
Inn. How the Inn was “full”, and how the Inn is now famous, not for what
happened there, but for what could have happened if only they had made
room. The church challenged us to make room in our lives. To not fill up
with other things, but leave room for potential good to transpire. We
all know people in our lives who are disconnected, socially or
emotionally. I have no idea what this shooter’s
personality disorder was or what he was like, but I am around children
every day and some children (and adults for that matter) have a harder
time just connecting. And it can be hell for them. They disconnect from
humanity, and do inhumane things. There is a boy in Levi’s class, he is
“naughty”. He hits. He is angry and acts out a lot. He is the topic of
many of our dinner conversations. I have had play dates with other
families from the class, the other moms know who he is through stories
their children tell. Do you think ANY of us have EVER asked to have a
play date with this child? Or reached out to be a friend to his parents?
Of course not. NEVER. I would never think to before today. BUT. This
holiday break, we are going to invite them over. We are going to reach
out to a little boy and his (likely) very overwhelmed and stressed out
parents and see if we can make him (and them) feel normal. Included.
Liked. It is incredibly surprising how the
smallest gestures can have the biggest and most lasting impact. I hope
you can find room in your hearts to include someone you hadn’t thought
of before into your lives, over the holiday and into the New Year.”

I believe in a world that is, at heart, good.  I believe that there are countless people each and every day who are hero’s to others.  People who extend a hand or a smile or a loving embrace.  People who quietly meet needs and give of themselves to reach the heart of another. I believe that a simple act of kindness can change the world. 

As I’ve thought about this I’ve felt, to an even greater degree, the weight of my role as a Mama.  The opportunities I have each and every day to teach Charlie, Chanelle and Meadow how important it is to be a light in the world.