Monday, 17 December 2012

Hush, Little Baby.

Are my children more precious today than they were last week? Of course not. It just feels that way.

My children are precious every day. As precious as the children on an Indian slum pile. An African refugee camp. An Indonesian orphanage. A Connecticut school.

How do we get through the things that we can't get through? How can we make sense of the unfathomable? Can't. Just have to keep going, do what we can. Strip it all back. The most important things in life aren't things. We are more connected than we know.

For every one person who would walk into a school and start shooting babies, there are a million who would rush in to save them. Twenty sets of parents this week choosing a coffin from the small coffin section of the catalogue. The last thing they will ever have to buy for their children.

A heart is broken again and again until finally it opens. A moving spring has the purest water. At the precise moment of dreadful and horrific events, the human spirit inside us instantly begins to plot its own survival.

There's always a pause, a moment when all hope is lost.

Resilience is a powerful thing. Keep going.

A woman reads the words of The Nutcracker in a confined space to a frightened class and tells them it was just a drill. One day they'll realise exactly what the sound of all the booms represented. I don't understand life. But who says we have to? Googled "losing faith in god" and up came Mother Theresa. Huh. Prayed to a leaf, a cloud, and the Buddha on my back deck even though he's made of wood like Pinocchio. Not even real.

It's where you pray from that makes prayer so powerful. It's why I wept when I listened to the small Muslim boy sing his prayers at the vigil. I didn't understand what he was saying. I didn't have to. A deep essence of something that I don't know, I don't know. I'm just so, so sorry down here, wringing my hands. Trying to maintain some faith in humanity.

Just like everybody else.

Please consider donating to Noah's Ark of Trust - no amount too small. Noah was the youngest child to die in the shootings last Friday, he is the nephew of VDog

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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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