Believe in Hope - A Post by My Sister

I haven't been able to write a thing about those precious children. 

Not a thing.

I just haven't gotten the words out right and I believe if there are to be words shared for these children, for these parents, for the teachers and families ... they must be perfect. My sister sent me something last night and I asked if I could share it. Thanks, Em.

I believe in hope.

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You know, as I sit here tweaking the midterm my students will take Thursday, my heart and my mind and my spirit keeps going to Connecticut. I’ve never been there. I’m not even confident that I could point it out on a map. But right now Nightline is doing an in-depth report on the troubled twenty year-old who has changed countless lives forever. And I’m sad.

As a woman who has dedicated her professional life to educating teenagers, I’m sad. As a mother to five living children, I’m sad. But as a mother to one precious deceased son, I ache. I ache for those mothers with a closet full of gifts that will never be opened in the magic of Christmas morning. Those grandmothers, staying with their grieving daughters, who fell to the floor sobbing this morning as they pulled from the dryer play clothes that will never be worn again.  I ache for those fathers facing a powerlessness no man can be prepare himself to feel.

And yet—I still believe in hope.

My favorite song in the whole, wide world is a quiet, simple Christian song called “How Deep the Father’s Love for Us.” While I treasure each word, each note, each inflection, this is the part that makes God real for me: “How deep the pain of searing loss. The father turns His face away. As wounds which mar the chosen one bring many sons to glory.”

How deep the pain of searing loss.

Searing.

And yet—I still believe in hope.

The answer to this tragedy may or may not be stricter gun laws. It may or may not be armed policemen at every school. It may or may not be increased awareness of and understanding about mental illnesses. But the answer to this tragedy is hope.

Hope that one day soon this common humanity that we’re all feeling will “stick” and we’ll do more to really care for each other. Hope that peace and kindness replaces “lose ten pounds by Valentine’s Day” on our resolution lists. Hope that I’ll get to do laundry for all of my kids for as long as I live.

“For this I know with all my heart. His wounds have paid my ransom.”