Sunday, December 16, 2012 - I got ready for church this morning. My son... my 5-year-old son... sat on the couch, munching on some cinnamon-flavored waffles, while my daughter was still mustering up the energy to pry open one of her eyes in preparation for the day before her.
This mischievous daughter of ours, later wide awake, locked us out of our bedroom while I was in her bedroom, choosing clothes for her to put on for the day. Our son was oblivious to everything going on around him because American Ninja Warrior is more important than the universe when it's on TV (thanks, on-demand). Door knob disassembly took about 15 minutes (and a few vexing facial expressions) to rectify.
Already running behind schedule, our kids were playing in the foyer as we were gathering the last of our Sunday routine necessities when we hear our son, "Mama! Mama! I... I think my tooth fell out!"
Now, this sucker had been loose for awhile, so its exit was no real surprise. However, the subsequent words, "...but I don't know where it went!" left us searching the kitchen floor for another 15 minutes to no avail (we later found it in the playroom... go figure).
We came home and finished helping the kids butcher the Christmas cards we put our hearts into helping them make for their friends and teachers in their own loving, yet extremely careless, way. We enjoyed each other's company and quirky personalities and my wife and I ended the day by tucking them into bed, letting them know we love them, and cuddling up on the couch a bit for some midnight pancakes (dinner) before we went to bed ourselves... another typical Sunday.
Saturday, December 15, 2012 - I awoke to my alarm clock alerting me to the fact that I had hit its snooze button a good seven times, sufficiently whittling down the minutes that our family had to eat breakfast and get ready to get to our son's basketball game exactly on time as long as we rushed.
As we parents sat in the bleachers, watching our 4- and 5-year-olds attempt to do something in the local YMCA gymnasium that kind of resembled a basketball game, I couldn't help but feel a bit distant at some points of the game. I knew that there were parents who were supposed to be doing what I was doing this morning, but couldn't. Their whole lives had been brought to an excruciating halt the day before.
Between meals, we played video games and began creating our Christmas cards for the rest of that day. I reintroduced my son to "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" and we all spent some quality time at a Christmas party where my daughter acquired a wonderfully aesthetic welt after an altercation occurred between her older brother and herself over who would get to use the bathroom first before we left for the night. Let's just say that, for the next few days at least, I can stick a pair of glasses on her and call her Harry Potter's estranged twin sister, Harriet... and this was a good night.
Friday, December 14, 2012 - While monitoring my students on a computer program in the school library, the librarian lets me know that another school shooting has occurred... in an elementary school... and that there were definitely casualties. I caught up with what was happening as best as I could during my lunch hour and subsequent prep period, but all I kept coming up with were more and more questions about how and why, etc.
I texted the news to my wife and wanted to discuss what was happening with others, but felt as though I had to "keep my cool," so to speak. It wasn't the right time or place for this conversation to happen. I just kept thinking, "These are kids my son's age... These are adults in my profession..." I started thinking about the staff members who undoubtedly lay their lives down for the sake of those children.
When I got home, after I gave my kids big bear hugs before rubbing their backs as they fell asleep, I had that conversation I was longing to have with my wife... and I felt much better even though it didn't change the utter turmoil within my soul.
I don't know what to make of all of this. This could have happened anywhere. It could have happened in my very own school. I know God was there during this event just as He is there now for the ones who lost an integral part of their family that day. I know we can't understand why in the world this was allowed to happen, but have faith that good will come of this evil.
I can't help but feel some strange amount of "survivor's guilt" if we can call it that. Colleagues and children that got up that morning ready for another day perished while we are still here... and, aside from praying, all I can do is wonder why and trust God.
I just know that I don't want to forget. I don't want this event to just blur into and merge with the plethora of prior similar mass murders. We will move on, yes, but towards something better. Towards an end that makes this event matter. What will change because of the loss of this innocence? What will you do to not let this have happened in complete vain? ...what will we do?
Already running behind schedule, our kids were playing in the foyer as we were gathering the last of our Sunday routine necessities when we hear our son, "Mama! Mama! I... I think my tooth fell out!"
Now, this sucker had been loose for awhile, so its exit was no real surprise. However, the subsequent words, "...but I don't know where it went!" left us searching the kitchen floor for another 15 minutes to no avail (we later found it in the playroom... go figure).
We finally went to church as a family... arriving late as a family. My wife and I enjoyed the sermon. It was a very poignant topic and even took into account Friday's horrific events. Afterwards, the kids gave us an account of what they think they learned in Sunday school, and we ventured to Ikea because their restaurant prices are phenomenal, not to mention that the kids would be able to have fun in Småland while my wife and I could relax and recharge in preparation for the coming week.
We came home and finished helping the kids butcher the Christmas cards we put our hearts into helping them make for their friends and teachers in their own loving, yet extremely careless, way. We enjoyed each other's company and quirky personalities and my wife and I ended the day by tucking them into bed, letting them know we love them, and cuddling up on the couch a bit for some midnight pancakes (dinner) before we went to bed ourselves... another typical Sunday.
Saturday, December 15, 2012 - I awoke to my alarm clock alerting me to the fact that I had hit its snooze button a good seven times, sufficiently whittling down the minutes that our family had to eat breakfast and get ready to get to our son's basketball game exactly on time as long as we rushed.
As we parents sat in the bleachers, watching our 4- and 5-year-olds attempt to do something in the local YMCA gymnasium that kind of resembled a basketball game, I couldn't help but feel a bit distant at some points of the game. I knew that there were parents who were supposed to be doing what I was doing this morning, but couldn't. Their whole lives had been brought to an excruciating halt the day before.Between meals, we played video games and began creating our Christmas cards for the rest of that day. I reintroduced my son to "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" and we all spent some quality time at a Christmas party where my daughter acquired a wonderfully aesthetic welt after an altercation occurred between her older brother and herself over who would get to use the bathroom first before we left for the night. Let's just say that, for the next few days at least, I can stick a pair of glasses on her and call her Harry Potter's estranged twin sister, Harriet... and this was a good night.
Friday, December 14, 2012 - While monitoring my students on a computer program in the school library, the librarian lets me know that another school shooting has occurred... in an elementary school... and that there were definitely casualties. I caught up with what was happening as best as I could during my lunch hour and subsequent prep period, but all I kept coming up with were more and more questions about how and why, etc.
I texted the news to my wife and wanted to discuss what was happening with others, but felt as though I had to "keep my cool," so to speak. It wasn't the right time or place for this conversation to happen. I just kept thinking, "These are kids my son's age... These are adults in my profession..." I started thinking about the staff members who undoubtedly lay their lives down for the sake of those children.
When I got home, after I gave my kids big bear hugs before rubbing their backs as they fell asleep, I had that conversation I was longing to have with my wife... and I felt much better even though it didn't change the utter turmoil within my soul.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
I don't know what to make of all of this. This could have happened anywhere. It could have happened in my very own school. I know God was there during this event just as He is there now for the ones who lost an integral part of their family that day. I know we can't understand why in the world this was allowed to happen, but have faith that good will come of this evil.
I can't help but feel some strange amount of "survivor's guilt" if we can call it that. Colleagues and children that got up that morning ready for another day perished while we are still here... and, aside from praying, all I can do is wonder why and trust God.
I just know that I don't want to forget. I don't want this event to just blur into and merge with the plethora of prior similar mass murders. We will move on, yes, but towards something better. Towards an end that makes this event matter. What will change because of the loss of this innocence? What will you do to not let this have happened in complete vain? ...what will we do?
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