A link that will make you cry

Here is a link about one of the young children killed in Newtown.

Click here

More than anything else, this put the horrible events of that day straight into my heart, and left me gasping for breath through my tears.  I think about that precious little girl, and I see Janey.  The fact that she was in the class she was making me think the school must have been an inclusion school.  I think of Janey, in a situation like that, unable to follow instructions, unable to hide and be quiet, unable to understand in any way what was happening---not that any child could, but I think of her fear of loud noises, her reactions to others being upset, her dislike of the school routine changing.  I think of all that, and I can barely take it.

We all depend on others.  We depend on everyone who keeps our world safe and operating.  But some of us depend more on others.  Janey does, and that means I do too.  I depend on anyone who is with her when I am not.  Janey needs supervision constantly, just to stay out of danger, literally, to stay alive.  Without someone holding her hand, she might run into traffic, or wander away.  Without someone taking the burners off the stove, or locking cupboards or monitoring hot water, or making sure she doesn't break glass or choke on things she puts in her mouth, we could lose her.  I live with that every day.  I trust the people that care for her at school, and my immediate family.  Other than that, she is with me, all the time.  I imagine the parents of Josephine Gay knew that feeling all too well.  They sent her that morning to a place she'd be safe and cared for.  And evil came that day, and took her life, and the life of other precious children.  In a way, that day reminded us all that we live with an illusion of safety.  Those of us with children like Janey have known that for a while.  I wish no-one else ever had to learn that horrible lesson.

An emotional day

Yesterday, like most Americans, I heard the news about the shooting in Newtown and responded with pure horror.  I just couldn't even quite wrap my mind around it.  I felt numb, sickened, like throwing up.  I sat there blinded and just not ready to admit what had happened.  For some reason, I felt compelled to decorate the Christmas tree.  As I put on the angel and peace and manger ornaments, I cried, with the news on in the background.  I kept thinking of a line from my favorite Christmas carol---"I Heard the Bells"---the line that says

And in despair I bowed my head
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

It can feel that way, a lot of times.  There is evil in the world.  We can't understand it, we can't quite even grasp it.  But it's there.  However, I truly believe there is more good than evil, much more good than evil.  I see it every day, with the people that care for Janey, that love her.  I see it in Janey herself---an innocence that will never go away.  I see it all over.

Of course, my mind went where I wish it hadn't.  What if it had been Janey at that school?  I saw the pictures of children leaving the school in a line, and thought about how Janey would not understand orders to do that, that the noise of bullets (and how sickening to even have to picture this) would scare her, how she would scream if a class was trying to be silent to avoid being shot (and why, why do we even have to think of such things?)  I thought of how she can be confused and overwhelmed by the smallest things, and I cried.

However, I also thought about how Janey will never really understand evil.  I heard advice on talking to your young children about the shooting, and I felt an odd relief that I didn't need to do that.  Janey knows nothing of what happened, and she won't.  Her autism protects her from some of the worst of life.

The day ended on another note, a very happy one.  William got his first college acceptance letter!  It was to Clark University.  He is applying to 13 other schools, and so hopefully this is the first of more, but the first letter is a huge deal.  We hugged him and cried for happiness.  I remembered the little boy that long ago carried a (wrong) diagnosis of autism, the boy who struggled for years, and who was helped beyond measure by the love of good teachers and (I hope) our love of him, and his own strength.  It felt like another reason to hope---that love and caring can work.  I am so proud of him.

And we go on, trying to understand a crazy world.  We hold our children and wish for them a life free of hate and evil, a life where love triumphs.