Everywhere I look online, people are mentioning the tragedy in Sandy Hook. Sharing their heartbreak, asking for prayers. I've been putting off talking about this subject. I haven't mentioned it on Facebook or my blog.
But lest you think I'm hard-hearted, please know it is the farthest thing from the truth. Even now, I find this very, very difficult. I really have no idea what this post will turn into because the words are so hard to find while the tears come so easily.
But lest you think I'm hard-hearted, please know it is the farthest thing from the truth. Even now, I find this very, very difficult. I really have no idea what this post will turn into because the words are so hard to find while the tears come so easily.
The truth is that those 20 babies have never been far from my mind. I cry even as I type this. As I sit here in my quiet house and actually try to give words to my thoughts and feelings. Feelings that have overwhelmed me since early Friday morning as I watched this tragedy unfold in horrified silence.
Those babies and their faces are forever etched in my mind. Because I see them every time I look into the chocolate-brown eyes of MY baby. My 5 soon-to-be 6 year old. I feel just an inkling of what those parents must be feeling as I imagine life without my girl. My chest aches and the tears flow now that I let them. Now that I make myself put my thoughts into something semi-coherent. Now that I allow my emotions to come to the forefront.
I look into those eyes and can't help but think about what those little eyes at Sandy Hook Elementary saw. Then my terror goes further and I imagine the unthinkable scenes that were the result. I can't help but think of MY little girl there, in that place. Especially as I see the pictures of the innocent victims. I find it so hard to look into their eyes. Into their smiling faces.
Does this make me callus? No, this makes me a mother whose heart breaks more and more with each precious face I see. Because it could have so very easily been her. My little chocolate-brown-eyed girl.
Even now, as both my girls are at school, I can let my fear overcome me. That fear and anxiety is something I've struggled greatly with over the past 8-10 years. Or I can put it all in God's hands. The grieving families, those precious little ones who witnessed the unthinkable, the adults who did their very best to protect their charges and the ones who came when called upon to help.
From the time that my oldest daughter started school until this very morning, I watch my girls either step on the bus or walk in the front doors of the school building and I pray that God will watch over them through the day. I put them in His hands. After, all, they are His. He has given them to my husband and I to care for here on Earth. But they are His. He loves them more than I ever could. I will trust in that love. His everlasting love.
So, I will dry my eyes. My whole face, actually. I will go about my daily tasks. But now with a renewed gratefulness that at 3pm I still have the blessing of going to go pick up my baby from school and once again, Lord willing, look into those chocolate-brown eyes.
"How precious is Thy lovingkindness, O God! And the children of men take refuge in the shadow of Thy wings."
Psalm 36:7
I know what you're saying about seeming callous -- but it really being the opposite.
ReplyDeletePerhaps one of the most honorable ways to commemorate someone is by silence. And to join in grief's quiet prayers for the parents.
Your baby sure is sweet. Sweet as her chocolate brown eyes. :)