Grieving for the grieving

I keep pushing this post aside because, honestly, I'm not even sure how to tackle it. Not even sure I feel okay with sharing my own emotions as they are so trivial in comparison to those that have lost their loved ones.  Those that have been directly affected.  But I  needed to give a voice to my feelings and emotions.  And I know in my own times of grief and heartache, the shared collectiveness of others who grieved for me, helped to heal me. 

I have a million things on my mind.  All things I want to blog about and share.  All of which seem, right now, like fluff.  Of course these things are important and relevant in my life, but in the face of what has happened in Connecticut, my thinking has shifted to heavier things.  Things that I couldn't *not* talk about.  Baby bumpdates and Christmas cards can wait. 

I cannot begin to imagine, for even a fraction of a second, the guttural pain and anguish the parents of the Sandy Hook shooting victims are feeling.  I just.  can.  not.

I'm usually one to sit glued to the television when tragedies are unfolding.  When JFK Jr. died in the plane crash, you couldn't peel me away.  September 11th, as we awaited news on a family member, I watched in utter horror and disbelief.  For days.  And days.  And days.  Jason never came home.  And as a 10 year old I remember watching Baby Jessica being rescued from the well.  My anxieties skyrocketed and I couldn't sleep, but I also wouldn't stop watching. 

This tragedy?  This unspeakable, heinous, heartbreaking tragedy?  I cannot.  Cannot bring myself to watch it unfold on television.  The moments I have watched left me on my knees, in front of my child, choking on tears. 

The children.  Those little babies.  I can only rest in knowing they are with Our Father now.  Safe and sound and unafraid.  But to think of them in those last moments of their fragile, innocent, barely begun lives fractures my heart into a million splinters each and every time.  And their parents?  My mama heart just can't go there.  I can't. 

Just hours before the shooting, I had been at my 4 year old nieces Christmas show at her pre-school.   After, when I saw the news I couldn't help but imagine if a crazed gunman had opened fire in the Church auditorium as the little lambs and angles and shepherds sang of Jesus' birth.  How unsafe we can all be at any given moment even in the safest town.  Doing the safest things.  Watching a Christmas pageant.  Going to school.  How when you say goodbye to your child as you usher them off to school, you never in your wildest imagination could fathom never seeing them again.  

I cannot stop thinking of the principal, the school psychologist, and the heroic teachers of Sandy Hook Elementary who gave their lives in an attempt to protect those children.  Though it is so easy to focus solely on the children, I have been reminded of the faculty that died that day and offer my prayers for them and their grieving families.  All lives were cut too short that day. 

There are just so many elements of pain that saturate this tragedy.  I am heartbroken for the families.  Absolutely devastated as I imagine being in their shoes.  It wrecks me.  So though I may not be immersing myself in the news, I have been faithful in my prayers.  I have whispered their names up to God.  Each of those babies' names.  

It is unimaginable to me as I hear the journalists on TV talk of healing.  How will this town heal?  The parents and families of the victims?  I'm not sure.  All I am sure of in this moment is that I will pray for that healing to come.  Pray for the families and the community. Hug my own family tighter.  My daughter.  Give thanks one night at a time that she is here for me to hold and love and enjoy.

God bless the souls of those that were lost and the lives of those that live to pick up the pieces.