When the World Goes Quiet

I was going to write an uplifting post.  I swear I was.  I was planning it out this morning, and instead of my planned day (last day in my current role, play some WoW, watch some American Horror Story), I got to watch the news unfold with a real life American Horror Story right in my own state.  

Today, for reasons unbeknownst to me, a man walked into an elementary school in Newtown, CT and killed 26 people.  Out of those 26 people, 20 were kindergarten children. 20 babies, innocent lives, taken less than 2 weeks before Christmas.  Six adults, taken from their families less than 2 weeks before Christmas.

I don’t know how to process this, and after a day of news watching I can’t.  I don’t think I will ever be able to.  There couldn’t have been a reason for such destruction, such pain.  The world mourns with Connecticut tonight, for those families and the community.  

Girl 1 was home, she came home early before I even heard the news.  When The Boy and Girl 2, Girl 2 who is about the same age as most of those we lost today came in, they hugged me and I cried.  I cried for the feeling of blessing I had for being able to hug them.  I cried for the pain that those families must have.  I cried for the responders, those who went in and saw the devastation and led children out, instructing them to close their eyes as they walked out.  I cried for the survivors, who will no doubt have nightmares and questions no one will ever be able to answer.  I’m sure I am not done crying, because the pain of this cannot be felt all in one feels.  It’s waves, because as you know if all the waves came at once it would be crushing.  

I ungrounded The Boy.  For dinner, they can have whatever they want and I won’t say a word.  Girl 1 can dye her hair any color she wants, Girl 2 can stay up as late as she wants.  I am sure my evening will be the same for a lot of households as we hold our children a little tighter, let the rules go a little wayward, and tell them we love them a little more than usual.

I’m on the fence with religion, having an abstract relationship with God, but tonight I will light 26 candles on my porch and I will pray.  I will be a child coming home,not for myself, but for the 26 lives that left us today.  I will ask him to take them in and hug them for their families and find them a nice place to play.  I will ask him to send peace to those families who are grieving and peace to the world that grieves with them.  I know He’ll hear me, as well as the countless voices asking the same thing.  

Be well, friends, and love well tonight.  Hug harder, kiss longer, read an extra bedtime story.    

“If every tear we shed for you became a star above; you’d stroll in 
Angel’s garden, lit by everlasting love.”
~Author Unknown 



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2 responses to “When the World Goes Quiet

    • There is. The waves are hitting all at different times. Girl 1 lost it when we did the candles. I’ve lost it all day. Within the greatest pain, we find our greatest strength.

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