Yesterday was just a climax of a lot of emotions (as evidenced in my blog post). All these national tragedies happening at just enough of a regular interval to keep us (or me) somewhat scared, and then the potential shooter potentially being at my kids' school...potentially. As it all turned out, he was armed and was in the area, but the police acted with such swift and sure determination, in conjunction with the school district (who immediately executed a lock-down and shooter "drill"), that the entire terrifying situation was quelled in about two hours, from the time of the initial tip to the arrest. That's fairly amazing, and a testament to the procedures in place and the professionalism of our local resources.
The staff at the school, while they admitted they were scared as they too hid in "closets and bathrooms" during the shooter "drill" [apparently, normally during a drill, staff members such as janitors and secretaries don't typically participate], were extraordinarily calm, professional, and empathetic as frantic parents began to arrive at the school. They handled all of our crazy asses with patience, especially the parents who were screaming through the phone lines (audible to the entire office area).
It was terrifying, especially that first few moments after receiving that email. Positively terrifying. Grayson is eight years old, the same age as the boy killed in the Boston bombing and the same age as countless other young people killed every year by car accident, cancer, fatal accidents, drowning, etc. Every day I release him into the world, onto a bus, into a school, to a friend's house, and one day (Lord help any of you who know me on that day) into a car that he's driving.
And that's only one child. One day I'll have to release Callie on a date.
With a boy. Sheesh.
With a boy. Sheesh.
But you, my good, good friends, have the love for me to snap me out of my terror-induced panic and get me back to reality. Life is going to happen. There is no way I can protect my children against all the dangers the world presents. I could home school them, and we could all be killed by a drunk driver on the way to the supermarket. I could move up into the mountains and our lovely, eco-friendly, off-the-grid cabin could catch fire. Those Final Destination movies kind of hit it right on the nose...you can't escape it.
The only other logical alternative is to enjoy every single second you do have. Sometimes, it may be more important to lay on the floor with your kids and play with Legos than fold that basket of laundry. That can wait for after they go to bed. Sometimes, when they're slurping their spaghetti and flinging sauce all over their faces, it's best just to laugh and enjoy their silly, raucous giggles around a table that one day will fall silent. Take a walk and accept the dandelions they pick for you and put them in your hair. Dance with them in a public park like no one's looking. So if, on the horrible, tragic, unthinkable chance that something happens to one of them, you'll have the happiest, most glowing memories possible.
Thank you, friends.
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