Do The Work
Kellan on the first day of Kindergarten. My baby with his whole life ahead of him.
I was gone from the house all day Friday morning and only had a quick hour to check in before I had to turn around and attend to my Friday afternoon duties.
That is why I didn't know. Until the last moments before I left the house again I was oblivious. Until I decided to do a quick check-in on Facebook I had no idea. Then I read and saw and heard.
I didn't have much time to process the devastating level of information because I had somewhere to be, so as I'd only gleaned small bits of new from the internet, I turned the radio on in the car. That's when I heard the details that pierced my heart; six-year-olds, almost two entire classrooms of them - gone. Twenty mothers' babies. Murdered.
That thing that I had to rush out of the house to go do was volunteer in Kellan's kindergarten classroom.
By the time I took the 10 minute drive to the elementary school my heart was palpably heavy. I stood at the steps of the building that has nurtured four of my children and took in the simple brick exterior... the American flag... the parcel of bicycles haphazardly strewn and trustingly unlocked next to the racks by the front door. As I opened the doors and stood in the lobby, waiting to be buzzed in, I tried to imagine how someone could bring evil into a place of such innocence. How could anyone gaze at the walls full of construction-papered art and wobbly-written stories and student-made posters about mitten tree donations and not be stopped in their tracks by the sheer purity of it all?
As I approached Kellan's room I could hear the little voices of his class as they transitioned from their work tables to prepare for stations. A lump grew thick in my throat as I stood in the door. These were the sounds. These were the noises and the voices that were suddenly silenced earlier that day in another part of our world. I took a deep breath before I stepped into the room and then walked straight to the back room to store my coat because the enormity of the damage from what had been done hit me like a punch in the stomach and my eyes were immediately weighted by tears. The classroom aide who has been in all of my older children's classes follwed me in and squeezed my hand and said, "It's terrible, isn't it? I cried at lunchtime." Right after that, as if she knew I needed it, Kellan's sweet teacher (who was also Hayden's 4th grade teacher) came to tell me how Kellan had made her afternoon when he walked at the start of class and declared, "Today is a great day! It's a beautiful day outside and at home I sang "Twelve Days of Christmas" five times by myself!" (indeed he had!)
For an hour I sat and helped these 5 and 6-year-olds work on their gingerbread boys and girls and reveled in their sweetness even more than I usually do. I tried to erase the grown-up realities of sickness and sadness and evil that I know exist in this world and tried to keep my mind like that of a child - like Kellan - today is a great day.
It's impossible to have a child or know a child or even have a compassionate, human heart in your chest and not feel devastated every time this story comes to mind. I have kept the television off and I have limited my news reading to information about the victims and the heroes and not about the shooter or gun-law debates or school security blame.
A while back I mentioned that I was seeking a way to connect with God outside of attending church. To that end I subscribed to a daily devotional that each day provides a spiritual challenge and a way to meet it through faith. Oddly - or maybe not so oddly - a great percentage of the time the message is the exact something my spirit needs to hear. The other day, this verse was part of the message:
"David also said to Solomon his son, "Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the LORD God, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you until all the work for the service of the temple of the LORD is finished." 1 Chronicles 28:20
I am going to try so hard to do the work. If we all just try to do the work, then maybe the power of that labor will be enough to keep more of this evil at bay.