In the Wake of Tragedy

A letter to my children:

My sweet babies,

Tonight, I am preparing to do one of the most difficult things I've been asked to do in a very long time tomorrow: take you to school.

Thankfully, you are blissfully unaware that our nation suffered a tragedy on Friday. A very ill man walked into a school and killed 26 people, 20 of them first graders. As I watched the news unfold, tears streaming, I fought every urge I had to go scoop you both up and never let you out of my sight. My heart broke, and I wanted to keep you with me just to have you close. I have never been so grateful to wait for the bus, Issa, and listen to first grade stories of wiggly teeth and tricky spelling words. To pick you up a little early, Evan, and hold both of you a little tighter.

This weekend, we have celebrated Christmas and shielded you from the news. At night, I read the latest headlines and my heart continually breaks for that school, the community, and our nation. As I read of the evil, though, I have been reminded of what your Mawmaw Tucky taught me: when things seem the darkest, it's time to count your blessings. The fact that you two are in my life is the greatest blessing of all, and I have been soaking you in all weekend. I have also been looking for the moments of good, shining through as blessings, in this tragedy.

When the evil entered the building, teachers protected their children, coloring and reading with them to keep them calm, and then escorting them to the waiting arms of their parents. First responders ran into the building, not waiting to know what was waiting but rushing to help. Those two groups ensured that 680 children walked out of that school. There is good.

I watched as neighbors who didn't have children in the building waited with those who did, praying and just being. There is good. I watched as a community held hands and sang "Silent Night" together. There is good. I read statements from parents who are facing the greatest sadness of all, rejoicing in the joy their children brought into their lives, remembering the best moments, and comforting a nation. There is good.

Those parents. As I check on you a few extra times every night, I cry every time. Grateful that you are sleeping peacefully and yet mourning for the mamas I know are still checking empty beds. I want to make them lasagnas and sweep their carpets and do their laundry, but I can't. What I can do is pray. This weekend I have prayed even more than I usually do. Grateful prayers for the lives that were saved and for you, my babies. Prayers for the families and the community. Prayers for teachers everywhere. Prayers without words because I just didn't have any. Prayers where all I could do was call His name, knowing He knows my heart, and that is enough.

It's through faith that I know He hears. I don't have to understand. That's what faith is. Goodness is choosing faith over fear. Every time we make that choice, good wins.

So...tomorrow, I will hug you a little tighter as I zip your coat. My morning prayers for you will be a bit more fervent. I will probably stand in the doorway of your classroom a little longer, thank your teacher a little more earnestly because I know she loves you and will take care of you, and I will probably cry a little when I get back in the car. But...I will choose faith over fear, a choice I hope you make every day of your lives.

I love you forever and always,

Your mama