A Poem

I'm not a writer and have never pretended to be.  I had a post for Friday, a post for Monday, and I planned a bump day post for today.  Perhaps I will post one later.

I just haven't been able to shake the feelings of grief and sadness over the tragedy that happened here in CT last Friday.  Maybe it was because it was my in my home state or that I had been to Newtown just a  few months ago to spend a weekend with a family to photograph a 60th wedding anniversary.  Maybe it's because I'm a mom now and know just what's it like to wear your heart outside of your body.

I watched the news just like I did on 9/11, just like I did when my school nurse and her family were murderded in their home.  I remembered the Oklahoma City bombing, the Columbine shootings, and exactly where I was when I learned of the Virginia Tech massacre.  My generation has seen so much hate.  And as I watched some of the posts on Facebook come through my newsfeed, I felt even more sadness.  There were posts about arming teachers and bulletproof backpacks and way too many people using this as a political jumping off point for gun control (or anti-gun control). There were even disgusting posts of ultrasound images and people using this tragedy to be vocal about abortion rights (saying, guess what kills more children?).   My faith in humanity was lost for moments at a time, but then there were all the messages of love and hope - 26 acts of kindness campaigns, and beautiful prayers across faith lines at the memorial service Sunday night.  And there was this poem sent to me by my aunt just last evening:

twas' 11 days before Christmas, around 9:38
when 20 beautiful children stormed through heaven's gate.
their smiles were contagious, their laughter filled the air.
they could hardly believe all the beauty they saw there.
they were filled with such joy, they didn't know what to say.
they remembered nothing of what had happened earlier that day.
"where are we?" asked a little girl, as quiet as a mouse.
"this is heaven." declared a small boy.

"we're spending Christmas at God's house."
when what to their wondering eyes did appear,
but Jesus, their savior, the children gathered near.
He looked at them and smiled, and they smiled just the same.
then He opened His arms and He called them by name.
and in that moment was joy, that only heaven can bring
those children all flew into the arms of their King
and as they lingered in the warmth of His embrace,
one small girl turned and looked at Jesus' face.
and as if He could read all the questions she had
He gently whispered to her, "I'll take care of mom and dad."
then He looked down on earth, the world far below
He saw all of the hurt, the sorrow, and woe
then He closed His eyes and He outstretched His hand,
"Let My power and presence re-enter this land!"
"may this country be delivered from the hands of fools"
"I'm taking back my nation. I'm taking back my schools!"
then He and the children stood up without a sound.
"come now my children, let me show you around."
excitement filled the space, some skipped and some ran.
all displaying enthusiasm that only a small child can.
and i heard Him proclaim as He walked out of sight,
"in the midst of this darkness, I AM STILL THE LIGHT."

Such beautiful imagery, right?

Sometimes I wish God didn't give us humans so much freewill.  It's our freewill that makes room for so much evil and hate in this world.  But it's also our freewill that allows us to love Him so genuinely and know Him so fully.  I know that God hates evil and I know that God loves us, and especially our children. I find so much comfort in that and pray that the children and families of Newtown find comfort in that as well.

The Newtown Meeting House rooster, circa 1700's.  Taken on a warm and sunny day in August.