Any event where innocent people lose their lives and that causes the rest of us to question our own safety in doing ordinary activities like viewing sporting events is a tragedy because it undermines the […]
I think of those 20 kids. Those 20 little faces. 20 people who had all of the potential in the world. 20 innocent people, who despite all of the evil, and discontent in our society and in our world, were still at an age when they hadn’t yet been corrupted. I think of 20 kids who got up and went to school, like it was any other day, who eagerly awaited the weekend (and who even more eagerly awaited the upcoming holiday and a visit from Santa).
What could have been going through their minds when a 20 year old man started shooting? Did they cry? Did they hide? Did they comprehend what was happening?
I think about those parents. Those 20 sets of parents whose worlds are crashing down on them today. Parents who had the normal frustrations of life yesterday and who are now experiencing pain that most of us will never have to imagine. Waiting to wake up from this terrible dream, still in disbelief that this could have happened, longing to rewind time, and knowing life will never be quite the same. 20 sets of parents who kissed their babies goodbye this morning or last night and who took for granted that they would see them tonight and that they would be safe and that all would be right, at least in their worlds.
It’s so easy to lose perspective. It’s so easy to complain out of habit, to get frustrated when things don’t go perfectly. We have our waiter make a mistake with an order and respond like they’ve committed some type of wartime atrocity.
We complain and we get bitter. I think it’s not because the things about which we complain are so important, but because complaining becomes our comfort zone. Instead of just being happy and finding joy in everyday life, we treat anger like a warm blanket and wrap ourselves in it.