Yesterday morning when I turned on the Christmas tree lights, the lights on top no longer worked.
My first thought was, "Oh darn it! I don't want to take everything off to put new lights on…"
as soon as I thought it I felt a wave come over me, a silence, a knowing that the lights were not important.
The thought of the children, the beautiful little innocent ones who died, those who were protected but heard and saw, the teachers who did not have time to react, and those who reacted with utter awareness to shield the children in their care. The families, the brothers and sisters, all of us who felt the horrific sadness of a young man's tormented actions…
I thought of the little ones who were locked safely in the bathroom, with their heroic teacher who said,
"…We just want Christmas…"
The broken Christmas tree lights took on a symbolic meaning.
The lights that remain will be my prayer,
Peace, healing, and courage in memory of those who died. And for those who suffer the lost of love, peace of mind and courage to continue.
Why do I, like many others, read the stories, follow this terror, try to understand something that is unbearable ugly? I think it is because I want to crack open this unacceptable darkness, find a way to resolve it, cure it, heal it…let it go.
For this darkness that we try to understand, try to grasp and put to rest. That this darkness, that exist, will see and follow that which is light and leave us.
Philippians 4:8&9
"…Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me – put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you."
Notes:
A mother's trial with her tormented son.
Little Did I Know What I was Praying For, The Amish Massacre.
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