Friday, December 14, 2012

I Will Say A Little Prayer

In the middle of the terror, confusion and chaos of the elementary school shooting in Connecticut today, my thoughts obviously turn to my own children. In a small town, much like mine, parents woke their children up for school, just like I did. There was squabbling among siblings, there was a search for a missing shoe and a quick check that homework was done, just like in my house. There were hugs given and "I love you's" said, just like we do every morning.
Today, at 3:30 I will pick my children up. I will see their rosy, cold cheeks, from the weather storm creeping in. I will laugh at their mussed hair, that no amount of hairspray can prevent. I will listen to them, all at once, tell me about what their teacher said during math, what their friends did in the hallway and what they had for lunch. I will ask them what homework they have to do when we get home and hear the groan, "But, moooom...it's Friday!" They will remember that tonight we are doing chocolate fondue for dessert and scream in excitement, begging to do it as soon as they get home. As soon as we walk in the door, they will shed shoes, coats, hats and backpacks, effectively making my office a hazard zone. They will run to the kitchen, tearing through it, in order to prepare an after school snack.
Tonight, at 8:30, I will tuck each of them in. They will each smell like toothpaste and Suave shampoo. I will tell Avery the "spider" story...tickling her as the "spider" moves from her feet to her belly. I will pull the covers under her chin and tell her I love her. Peanut will tell me she loves me "thiiiiiiiiiis much", spreading her arms wide. I will shut Luke's door with a "See ya later, alligator" and hear him giggle and respond "After while, crocodile!" I will make sure Ry's glasses are on her headboard and snuggle her in tight. I will hug Bay, shocked once again that my baby is getting so tall that I can rest my chin on her head, and she will climb to the top of her bunk bed to work on Latin homework.
Then...I will say a little prayer. I will pray for the families that were robbed of tucking their babies in tonight. I will pray for the babies that were robbed of having their mom or dad, kiss them and tickle them, before they fall asleep. I will pray for the witnesses, police officers and medical personnel  who will forever have the vision of massacre etched in their minds. I will pray for the parents who's son took matters into his own hands today, stealing lives that he had no right to take.
May they all find peace. Some how.

2 comments:

Andrea said...

This just makes me cry all over again.

DizzyMamma said...

I can't really add anything to this. It expresses everything that ran through my head. I sat in my office desperate for the minutes to pass so I could go home and squeeze my girls tight. My youngest was sick and clingy and I wished my eldest was too, as she steered clear of the germs in another room when all I wanted was to hug her tight to me. Every time she came in the room I squeezed her tight. She knew something was wrong, Mom and Dad wanted to hug her every time we saw her, we sighed deeply, the breath caught in our throat, because those other kids were just like her, 7 years old, full of life, annoying, passionate, energetic, whining, loving, beautiful.... and we were so blessed that we have her and heartbroken for those who have lost that which can never be replaced...