On this rather gloomy afternoon in Northern Virginia the house is slowly winding down for nap and both little birds are back in the nest. I have never been so thankful for the shorter day of school on a Monday. My lips are chapped from nervously licking them all morning. Did I think Jackson was going to go to school and there would be another shooting?! No. I didn’t. But I hated to let him go. He didn’t have a clue that I came home  from school drop off and stormed through the house cleaning like a mad woman to keep this momma brain occupied on something other than the possibilities.  He hurried into school excitedly and exited with pride in his accomplishments and excited chatter about gingerbread houses.

I remember when the oncologist gave us Jackson’s diagnosis, along with hours of information much of which left us with a very dark prognosis and much heartache. On the way home that first day from the medical center I said something along the lines of “why on earth would God give us this precious gift and then take him away from us?” I came to that scenario with a good bit of faith and yet it shook me, and if I’m honest it continues to. I can’t imagine the tremors going on in the lives of those that are living lives in homes that lack a person they love. I can’t go to Target alone without pushing the automatic door button for their door because the boys are so much a part of my life. I can’t imagine opening the fridge and seeing that child’s favorite food waiting, but never to be eaten. Or trying to come back to life while processing such grief and opening the washing machine to see the child or family members clothes, worn the day before when life seemed so normal. They will never be the same.  Why, Lord? Why? I know we live in a fallen world but oh how we long for it to be different.

As the world continues to spin conversations about gun control, homeschooling, mental health it is easy to get caught up in it all.  This world is a scary place. Our love of privacy and self sufficiency is back-firing. We think we can cuddle up in our private homes with our problems and deal with them on our own. We selfishly think it’s better to protect our pride and family name than it is to share what life looks like inside the walls.  Somehow we think it’s all about us and we don’t realize how much our secrets and sins affect the lives of others. We close the windows when our child screams in a tantrum, we smile and straighten the kids clothes as we enter church trying to not look phased about the argument we had on the way, we try to compare ourselves and encourage ourselves that what we deal with just isn’t so bad. At least I do. I might not be able to change gun laws, home school my kids, or revolutionize our countries mental health system but I can continue to work here in this space and through my family to share our lives and to be real. To share the hope we have in Christ. I can see hurting people and actually take the time to listen when I pass by and ask how they are. I can ask deeper questions and I can allow life to be more inconvenient if it means going deeper and building relationships that can be safety nets in crisis.

This morning I woke up and just knew I would struggle with fear. Somewhere during the time when I was loading the kids into the car for the ride to school a song from my childhood came to my mind. One that I had not heard or song in probably 25 yrs. The words were from the Bible, Joshua 1:9 “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified, do not be discouraged for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you may go.” He expects us to go, not to hunker down at home. I normally pray for the boys on the way to school but today I taught them this song.  If my kids have to live in this dark world I want them to know the truth of the hope. When they face times in their lives I want them to have words that come to mind that remind them of the truths we have.  I am so thankful for that song that I buried long ago.

I don’t know about you but I struggle to feel merry and bright in this time when our country grieves. I have felt guilty being excited about a date night tonight for our anniversary or for reviewing the list again for our birthday and Christmas festivities that approach.  I feel sad. Yet there is so much to be thankful for and to celebrate. In our society 7 yrs of marriage is a darn good accomplishment and turning 3 is nothing short of a miracle with a brother with 2 casts. So this week although I continue to pray and grieve with the families who have lost their beloved ones in Connecticut, I also know I need to savor this season.  Tears, chapped lips and all. We can’t seize every moment and make every moment a hallmark one, but we can be present. We can sit with grief and embrace joy. For each day is a gift.