I don’t know what to say

It just doesn’t seem right to roll right past the events of last week. I don’t know how to talk about Christmas crafts and cookie swaps and menu planning. But at the same time when I skim through my Facebook page or read blogs that DO acknowledge the shootings, it doesn’t seem like enough.

So for nearly a week, I’ve been silent. I’ve barely talked about it with my husband or friends. There have been no posts on Facebook. I wanted to put a post up about playing in the snow, the first big storm hitting in our neck of the woods, but it didn’t seem right.

I find myself getting choked up at the oddest of things; making lunch for Jack or the sight of my baby’s feet, even wrapping presents. These small seemingly insignificant moments are suddenly magnified with the realization that there are 20 sets of mamas and papas who will never do these acts for their children again. And that shatters my heart into a million pieces.

I keep hoping for some kind of divine inspiration to hit. To make it so I can understand why this happened. But I just keep asking ‘why’…why, why why? And then I feel a little bit angry and really really sad, because the feeling I get is there are no answers and we won’t ever know why, at least not while we live on this earth.

I’ve read the Mister Rogers quote about ‘looking for the helpers,’ and I read the blog posts and news articles touting gun control and mental health services. I even skim the uncomfortable self-righteous Facebook posts filled with legalistic religious hub-bub. I can appreciate that people want to DO something. To make a change. To feel like they are regaining control, preventing something like this from happening again.

But I’m not there yet. I’m still stuck thinking about those mamas who have to plan a funeral instead of finish their Christmas shopping. Or those papas who have to face the booster seat in their rearview mirror. It literally makes my stomach hurt.

The one teeny tiny seed of comfort I’ve found these last few days is sitting with my children and reading the various Christmas books we have. I am reminded that our Father in Heaven sent his one and only son to this earth, knowing from the very beginning that Jesus’s life would be taken at the hands of someone else. He knows the pain of loosing a child. He can understand and empathize and bring comfort to these families in a way that no one else can.

When the ‘why’ and the ‘what ifs’ get to loud in my head, I beg and I plead in the bumbling way that I do for the Lord to redeem this horrific situation. I beg for peace. I pray for comfort to literally rain down on these families. And I thank the Lord that He welcomed those children into heaven. I believe that wholeheartedly.

The story isn’t finished yet, I keep telling myself that. My story, their story, our story.

Just like the glorious mystery of a baby born in a barn who turned out to be our King and Savior, I will wait in hopefulness, for the next chapter, the next bend in the road to reveal itself.


1 Response to “I don’t know what to say”

  1. 1 Steve Richardson December 20, 2012 at 1:47 pm

    Cousin, what an amazing way to tap into the soul of an issue! As usual I am in awe of your insights and spiritualism. I am blessed to have you as my cousin. Well said! Keep digging there is some good stuff in that heart of yours.

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