Reeling From A Distance

It is hard not to be sad right now.

It is hard to not want to pack up all of my family's belongings and move away, somewhere safe.

But where? Nowhere is safe apparently.

This prospect might not be as scary if I didn't have children. Yes, of course I worry for myself and for my husband, but I really worry for them. The young, the innocent, the ones who have yet to drive, vote, to see the world. Yes, I am scared for them.

In this age of shootings at just about any place imaginable, I don't like my role as a parent. I don't like that I have to say things to them that I am not confident of - that no, a shooting won't happen at your school. No, a shooting would never happen at the mall. And the one that hits home now, no, a shooting would never happen where you go to pray in a neighborhood we drive through just about every weekend.

Yes, I hate the lies that I find myself telling anymore.

The sad thing is, I think my lies comfort them. I don't want them to worry everyday. I do that enough for all five of us.  The safeguards in place are not fail proof. If someone wants to hurt people, they will hurt people.

I heard commentary this morning about Saturday's synagogue shooting and how an armed guard might have impacted the situation. One of the speakers said having one wouldn't have made much difference and probably would have added to the fatalities. How about a side of reality with your coffee?

If they haven't left yet, we probably only have a day remaining of the national news crews hunkering down in the 'Burgh. Let's face it, Pittsburgh will become like Aurora, Las Vegas and Sandy Hook once the next big story breaks and it will. But those of us who live here are left to pick up the pieces. I am only one degree away from people who knew someone who was killed or wounded Saturday. I have friends who have been touched personally by this tragedy.  I am only reeling from a distance.

A musical performance my son was supposed to participate in near Squirrel Hill was cancelled this weekend out of respect for the victims' families. He received an email about the cancellation and since we were not together at the time of him receiving it he texted me right away.

"Did you hear about the shooting?"

We exchanged a few quick texts and he wrote, "It makes me sad." I have to realize having a sixteen year old, I can no longer shield him from tragedy and sadness. Now I have to be in help mode - teaching him how to process and move on.

I told him not to dwell on it. Great advice, right? But days later it seems my thoughts find their way back to the eleven killed and the others who were injured. How can we change this cycle of hate? How can we prevent this from happening again? My heart is heavy. My head hurts.

But I have seen images of acts of kindness happening in the wake of Saturday's tragedy. People leaving flowers on cars, kids making cookies for police officers, schools sending messages of hope to those who are grieving. My oldest asked me, "What can we do right now?" He seemed interested in donating money to help.

But my answer was simple.

Spread kindness throughout your day and just be nice to others.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

Elijah Matthews, a student at Rankin Promise School, with a sign he made this week.