Over the weekend, I had several hours in the car to try and get my thoughts together after the horrible, senseless tragedy that occurred at Sandy Hook Elementary School last Friday. What I've figured out is that I cannot get my head around any of it. I can't watch the coverage on the news, I can't look at the pictures of those lost on the internet, I can't fathom 20 funerals with tiny caskets, and I can't really spend too much time thinking about the hell that broke out in those classrooms...because it's just too much for my heart. And what I know is that if it's too much for my 29 year old heart, it's certainly too much for the hearts of those children and teachers who were in that school on Friday.
In thinking about those children, I think about the ones in my own life. Little kids like that should be busy learning songs about being thankful for being able to play baseball, and eating too many M&Ms and smiling for the camera and jumping on beds and learning to tackle like the football players on ESPN and seeing Santa Claus and repeating what noises farm animals make and coloring and having nap time.
Last Friday, the innocence of children--both those inside that school and those outside--was stolen by the inexcusable actions of one man. I hope that today you will join me in praying for all of those people who lost loved ones on Friday, for all of the children, teachers and staff who were in that school who walked out alive but changed forever, for the family of the shooter (to read a heartwrenching article from that perspective, click here), for the police and paramedics who had to see the horror in that building, and for all of the children in your life.
And, as Fr. Steve so eloquently said yesterday, as inspired by St. John, may we all put love in this world so in need of it. "Where there is no love, put love, and you will find love." We cannot do much to help heal the pain that our nation feels in the shadow of last Friday, but we can love. And that is something.
May God provide comfort, faith, and peace to all. And, may Cardinal Bernardin's analysis that I shared last week be true: May love conquer death; faith conquer hatred; and compassion conquer cruelty.
4 comments:
Well said Tiffany.
I really can't, or maybe don't want to, fill my head with it. It's the sort of tragedy from which, genuinely, I can't extract anything much redeeming. And trying to intellectualize it just seems somehow repellent.
I can't make myself read the news on it in much detail, because I can already see unfolding all the usual pro- and anti-gun control arguments, and in the press out here, all the usual snotty anti-American tosh as well. After something like this, the arguments on both sides just seem demeaning.
I try not to self-dramatise too much, but oddly I don't much feel much like blogging after this event. It's kind of stupid: I didn;t know any of these children, and have only one friend in CT, but to blog my usual things - work, running, history and so on - just seems out of place right now.
Cardinal Bernardin's message is so beautiful. Even with a heavy heart and an ache in the pit of my stomach, this is exactly the faith that I cling to now.
Well written, Tiff. As usual. You have a gift for putting thoughts into words.
-College Roomie
Thank you so much, Tiffany. This really helped me this morning. God bless you, my sweet friend.
This is very well put. I had a difficult time trying to explain the situation to my son on Friday afternoon as his school implemented changes in security in light of the horrific events. He just wanted to know why someone would every do such a thing. I did not have an answer, but I did comfort him by telling him that we could pray.
I have been praying for those families and for all the children in this world - that they get to keep their innocence and that we learn from them.
- Amanda
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