Innocence

I know I speak for many when I say this weekend was pretty hard. It was emotionally draining and overwhelming. Obviously for some of us more than others, and some to degrees the majority of the country (hopefully) cannot begin to grasp.

I, for one, cannot grapple with the thought of 20 innocent children, and 6 of their educators, being shot to death in an elementary school. I can't handle the thought of just 1 innocent child being shot at, or witnessing such violence, and quite frankly my brain doesn't comprehend the scene the media keeps trying to paint for us. Because, for some reason, we need to know what happened. I'd rather not imagine the horror of that day, but some had no choice, so it is my belief that many of us feel the need to go into the darkness with them. We are helpless, strapped to our computers and television sets watching in horror, so perhaps if we torture ourselves with the mental images we'll somehow be "doing more," suffering with those parents and children, and uniting.

 Naturally, stories like this bring us all to our own personal experiences. Whether we knew the families involved, ARE the families involved, or simply have our own stories to relate it to, I can think of no one who isn't feeling very personally effected by the events of Friday right now.

Talking to my father over the weekend, he reminded me of something close to our home: When I was in Kindergarten, I walked to school from our babysitter's house for the afternoon class each day. I remember those walks being fascinating to me, because it was just a short path from Martha's house to the school by the high school next door, and we could always see the "big kids" sitting outside smoking or talking or eating lunch. I was very shy as a 5 year old, and I vividly remember not liking those scary kids sitting so close to the path we took each day. I also had never liked the Santa Claus that kids lined up to see in the mall each year. There was no reason behind it other than I was a bashful child who only trusted my family. (I guess in some ways I'm still like that.)

One day, I walked that path with just one of the other students because the rest were home sick. As we played on our walk, she ran ahead of me to beat me to the school and I struggled to catch up when I felt a powerful tug backwards. A man bigger than my Dad was following me, pulling on my backpack, and telling me I was "supposed to come with him." I'm not sure what part of my innocent mind realized this guy was evil, but I shrugged out of my backpack and bolted to the elementary school, where I remember hiding in the cubby area until the police - who'd seen what happened and arrested the man who was following me - came and questioned me. I think I was equally scared of the cops. I remember my parents sitting me down to talk to me that night about how it was good that I ran from him, how I should never talk to strangers, and what to do if that ever happened again. When my dad recapped that story for me this weekend, he said that I was "never the same" again.

"At 5 years old, something remotely traumatizing can change and shape a child." How true this was for me. I never felt the same way playing outside with my friends, and I remember - usually with a bit of a laugh - how I would clutch my mother and father's ankles and cry whenever they tried to drop me off at youth group, or ballet class, or even the babysitter's house after that day. A huge chunk of my innocence had been stolen from me in just seconds. I wasn't the carefree 5 year old who played 'tag' on the way to school anymore; I was the 5 year old who never wanted to walk alone again until I was well into my teens.

I cannot imagine what these parents are going to have to do to help their children feel "normal" again, after the kind of trauma they have endured. Part of me wonders how I would handle my own trauma, as one of their parents, let alone attempt to help them lead a typical childhood. Childhood tainted by an experience no one should ever have to endure in their lifetimes.

With this in mind, all I can return to is the hope I feel in seeing how many people were genuinely hurt by this news. I saw so many of my friends and colleagues cry out for change; I don't mind if the bulk of what was posted about was political, the important thing is that we all want to see A CHANGE. We want our country to be safe for all, and we want our children to be able to stay innocent and go to school without stomachaches or fear in their hearts. Knowing this is what most of us want, we underestimate the power there is in loving one another, sharing our fear with each other, and working together to stay safe. Maybe there will be a change to our laws - maybe there won't be. But, we are not helpless.

Let's all be good to each other.