I am sad.

Really sad. Twenty eight dead. Twenty children, six adults, a shooter and his mom.

This happened so close to home for me. Not only because my kids go to a Connecticut school. Not only because I have small and vulnerable children, but because this loss happened to young children, and that hits me especially hard.

The loss belongs to everyone. The loss belongs to all of us who inhabit a world where we are one inexplicable act away from deep agony. The loss belongs to all of us who live in a world where ultra violence is the only path some people can see. This loss belongs to anyone who has ever loved, because if you have loved deeply – you fear this loss.

No words. No explanation. No action. No logic. No vigil. No symbol.

No thought we can think can make sense of this; no action we can take can change the events that have happened.

We try to attribute meaning to events that don’t make sense. Some might say it is because we have taken God out of the schools, or because we are making gay marriage and pot legal, that this is the wrath we deserve. Some will say we need gun control or better mental health care. Many will blame the shooter’s parents, perhaps going so far as to say his mother deserved to die.

If we are being our best, most compassionate selves we might wait for another day to push our own agendas. We may not be able to prevent this kind of thing, but we can chose not to add to the hate. We can chose to be an instrument of light and peace. And we can chose to forgive.

You can rally around a cause, and you may change the world – but you may not mend your broken heart.

 

Sometimes tragedy strikes hard and there is nothing anyone can do about it.

 

In explaining this to children, we may want to remember that they will ask us what they need to know.

 

They will ask, and you will answer. Have an open, honest heart.

 

When I am in need of guidance, I always look to Jim Henson. I recall the episode of Sesame Street where Big Bird tries to make sense of Mr. Hooper’s death. Big Bird is lost, sad and confused and he asks the question we all ask: “Why?” The adults all look at each other, each one feeling the weight and poignancy of the moment, and finally Big Bird is told:

And sometimes, there simply is not anything more to say.

 

I am sad.