Like everyone else, I am horrified. I can't wrap my mind around it.
I wish we lived in a world where there was a sense of some things being so precious,
nothing would dare sully or harm them.
And what could possibly qualify as that more than our children--our babies?
One of the things that has impacted me most in becoming a mother
is the sense of camaraderie I feel with my fellow mamas,
known and unknown.
There are some things we will always understand, without a word being spoken.
Like deep, boundless love.
And loving someone so much it almost hurts.
In sharing this beautiful gift,
we inherit a protectiveness not only for our own kids,
but those of the world.
My daughter is not unlike any other 5 year old little girl.
And only a year younger than the youngest child killed.
She loves the colors pink and purple,
dolls, dressing up, and princesses.
The only difference is she is mine;
I know her love and her face, her giggles and songs, but--
how could I not equally love any little girl or boy,
had I merely known them?
Because of so many things, I feel a connection to these families.
Because I'm a fellow human.
Because I'm a parent.
Because my kids are close in age to those that were killed.
(I want to say those that were lost--or died--but no, they were killed.)
Because I know what it's like to move somewhere in hopes of it being safer,
away from the known crime that was showing up closer and closer
to the areas we called home.
For many years it seemed like so many things were getting closer
to our area, national crimes touching our home in big or little ways--
The Chandra Levy case; the Laci Peterson murder;
Juliani Cardenas, the little boy kidnapped from his grandmother's arms;
the Yosemite murders of a mother, daughter, and her friend.
When I was visiting my tiny hometown of Hughson a few months ago,
there was a man who drove up to a neighbor's house (with whom he'd had a longstanding fued)
and killed him, and then himself.
It was only one street over from where my parents still live, my childhood home.
I remember thinking, "This isn't the town I grew up in!
This isn't my childhood town."
Yet I'm straying too far.
Regardless of evil, unpredictable, unconscionable acts like the Sandy Hook shooting,
I refuse to believe the world is a bad place.
We cannot predict the moments our world will change,
but we can live in the safety of the love that lives between parent and child,
which no one can ever, ever take away.
I feel almost guilty in a sense to have my children
to love, to hold, healthy and free from sickness.
Yet the biggest way to honor those children killed and their parents,
in my mind, is to never forget what a gift that is.
To love them as best I can, with all I have, and teach them
that despite the pain of the world, it is still a beautiful place.
To teach them right from wrong, to be sympathetic,
kind, and loving, so they can be like the majority of the individuals
in this world: good people.
Sending all my prayers, love, and blessings
to the parents and children touched by the Sandy Hook shootings--
to those who, through the common bond of love and loving, ache with them--
to the world
where things like this happen
but will not destroy us.
"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts,
there can be no more hurt, only more love."
--Mother Teresa
