Unopened Presents, Unfinished Lives

(Geez, I can't even type out the title of this post without tearing up)

Today, 26 Americans, 20 of them our littlest citizens, were brutally murdered when a man entered a school and opened fire.

My heart is broken and all I can think about is : How am I supposed to let go of my child and let him march off into a classroom where I can't protect him? How do I keep my kid safe when I can't BE THERE to keep him safe? One of my big fears as a parent is my child calling for me, fearfully, and not being able to answer his call. How scared those little kids must have been when a man in military gear charged into their classroom with a gun. Did they see their teacher killed? Did they call for their moms? I'm certain they did, and it haunts me.

I think about how hectic mornings are here, with Erik going to work, G and I heading to the gym (or just trying to get Erik out the door and keep the dogs and kid in.) So often mornings are rushed through in an effort to keep schedules, they're a kind of "surivival" time in my book (that and when it's time to make dinner) and I have to wonder: Were the parents of the children that were killed snippy this morning? Did the everyone get and give their hugs and kisses? My heart breaks for the mommas that didn't get their kisses this morning. I hope with all my soul that all of them did, and in their honor I hereby resolve not to take a single morning for granted from this second on.

For years, I have been a firm believer in the whole "when it's your time, it's your time" mantra (that it doesn't matter where you are, if it's your time to go, you're going. And maybe this is how I've managed to send my husband off to war 3 times and not lose my mind), but I can't wrap my mind around little kids having their lives cut short. Surely there was more that those 20 little people were supposed to do with their years. And this close to Christmas, you know there are presents under 26 Christmas trees that will go unopened. I believve in an all knowing God, but I'm having a hard time understanding that these poor families couldn't even be given a few more days to experience the happiness of Christmas morning with their littles. I know a few days wouldn't have lessened the hurt, but man oh man, I look forward to Christmas all year long now that I have a kiddo.

It has become so hard to raise a child in a world of rainbows and sunshine. I know that world doesn't really exist, but I would have liked for my child(ren) to feel that it does, just for a little while. To think they are perfectly safe, that mom will always come when called for, and where they always get to come home at night, and to open all their presents on Christmas morning. I didn't think that little world I have tried to create around my child would have to dissolve when it was time to go to kindergarten. I thought I could at least hold off until 1st grade. Man this is a silly paragraph... Point is, instead of rainbows and butterflies, my kid is going to have to learn what to do when faced with a horror like this, and I'm going to have to figure out what to teach him.

Today we had workers here to work on our chimney and they were banging on the roof ALL afternoon, which meant no napping for Little. Instead, we broke the rules (I'm a pretty strict mom), cuddled in the big bed watching Thomas the Train on my Kindle. I am brought to tears again thinking of those moms and dads who can't do that anymore. But out of this darkness, there will be light, and for me, that light is to break the rules sometimes; and today I did that very thing, and for it I got a few extra hours to hold on to my baby while praying for those who can't.