As I read the news coverage this afternoon of the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary, I tried to imagine what it was like for those children and staff members. My heart ached for the terror and confusion the children must have felt. My stomach twisted for the teachers and staff, who bravely protected their students, yet feared for their own lives at the same time. And when I imagined my own children, ages 8 and 5, in those classrooms, I put my head in my hands and sobbed, overcome with grief. I grieved for the families in Newtown, for children everywhere, and for the state of our society.
I wanted to run to our school, gather my babies, and keep them home with me forever. I pictured us cuddled up close, in our safe, cozy home, blocking out the horrifying dangers of this world. But I know that's not the answer.
So I waited for the bell to ring. I hugged my children and brought them home and declared the rest of the day Family Time. We worked together to build a Lego sleigh. We flew paper airplanes. We celebrated my brother's homecoming. We went out for burgers and I taught them a little about basketball while the Rockets played the Celtics on the big screen. We came home and snuggled under a quilt reading library books, laughing together at A is for Musk Ox, which is the most hilarious book we've read in a long time.
And I hope that by listening to my children, laughing with them, and loving them, our love and peace will grow. I hope that we will encourage each other to help those who need it. I hope that by the time my children are grown, the world will be better.
