I don’t want to know about it. I know it happened and that it is horrible. I know the numbers. But I’m not watching the news and I’m trying not to read the articles. I saw the ages this morning and that was enough for today. Because they are the age of my little girl. I can’t know –don’t want to know– because they could have been her. They ARE her. Beautiful and perfect and innocent first graders, just like my baby.
I’ve struggled with visualizing worst-case scenarios since Little K was born. Wherever we went, I saw all of the things that could go wrong. Falling down stairs, bookcases or appliances tipping over, car accidents, choking, drowning, attacks, abduction, falling from the jungle gym, plane crashes… It was hard to leave the house sometimes. I was on my guard wherever we went. But I never imagined school. Bright faces, Hello Kitty backpacks, learning to read and doing math homework. How do you send them back after something like this?
I told R that I’m glad we live in a little country town. The kind of town that will never be on the news for anything. The big city is just 20 minutes down the road but our little town will remain quiet and unknown. But none of these towns should end up on the news. None should be exposed to violence. Being small doesn’t keep you safe.
Our pastor led the congregation in prayer through tears this Sunday. What else can we do? I’m genuinely asking. What can we legitimately do, what action can we take, what laws can *actually* pass to make sure this doesn’t happen again?