Somber Thoughts on a Somber Day

In having just read a blog post by cyber-friend Jack Weinstein on the horrors suffered at Virginia Tech, it made me become circumspect of my own life and what God has given me. It's hard to imagine being a parent who sends off his or her child to college, expecting them to be educated, to be enlightened, to be independent, to be safe, to return, and then in the blink of an eye and the explosion of a gun to have that evaporate. I think of Margaret ... watching her walk into Stafford Middle School, such a confident, well-adjusted child who is is indignant over the world's injustices, who is empathetic to others' suffering, who can't imagine a world where people don't treat one another with respect, who has a hard time understanding a world where someone can walk into a school and start shooting. The president said he supports the public's right to bear arms as long as laws are obeyed. How can a 12-year-old wrap her head around the Virginia Tech tragedy knowing that the shooter was armed and dangerous yet hear the president say people have the right to carry weapons as long as they obey laws? I can't even wrap my head around that.

How can we protect our children, who leave the protective environs of our homes, our arms, and head out into the world, whether it's away to college or just down the street to the middle school or even to our backyard where Patricia's elementary school sits. Doing good things, being good people and living good lives isn't enough anymore. Do we have to instill a fear of pending danger, of long coats and duffle bags in our children? It used to be enough to tell them not to talk to strangers. Now we have to warn them of inappropriate touch, of ploys that deviants use to lure them to their vehicles, of brooding students who keep to themselves and dress in black and write hate messages on websites. And even in doing all of this, some malcontent can still enter a school building, a college campus, a shopping mall and take out his loathing at being bullied, at being a misfit, at his parents, his lousy homelife or because some website told him to and open fire. And the school officials and teachers, and the parents and the friends all stand in stunned silence -- those who are still alive anyway -- and wonder what they could have done differently.

We strive to instill in our children a sense of confidence, a sense that they are loved unconditionally, that they can point to us and say without embarassment or awkwardness that they love us because they are themselves loved. I will go home today from work and hug my Baby Brigid and thank God for the very existence of her; I will hug Patricia and welcome her from school into the safety of her loving home. I will pick Margaret up from school and hug her and ask how her day was and quiz her about her friends and the kids in her classes and be proud of her responses because she is the kind of kid who would report bullying, because she's the kind of kid who befriends kids who aren't with the "in" crowd and doesn't mind not being one of those herself. I'll say a prayer and thank God for another day with my children, all the while knowing there are at least 33 sets of parents who don't have that luxury today.