Newtown, Connecticut

taking an intermission from all our joys of Christmas preparation to write a stream of consciousness about the horrific incident in Connecticut.

I've never been to Connecticut.
I don't know anyone there.

But being a teacher, and a parent; my heart hurts.

Friday, the day of the shootings, I had no thoughts. nothing to share. no feelings about it.

A parent came in at 1pm to drop off a student and asked if I knew anything about what was going on. I had no idea. I was busy in the classroom preparing my students to share the news of Jesus' birth in the Christmas service.

I'm a teacher, I love that I get to bring my son to school with me everyday. There hasn't been a school shooting since I've become a teacher, or a mother.

 I remember being in grade school and going to my sister's house on the Tuesday night of the Columbine shooting. The images and headlines seemed unreal. How could students do that to students. It certainly made me think about how I treated others.  I read a book about it in high school about Columbine. My stomach churned, as a high school student. But school shootings haven't been on my mind as a teacher, or a parent until today.

Today I cried.

I cried as I read one story. One story was all I could handle. I read about Vikki Soto, the teacher who after hearing the gun shots told her students to get into the closets/cabinets and hide. When the shooter came in she told him that her students were in gym class. Then he shot her. None of her students were physically hurt. I write physically because I have no doubt they are hurting in other ways.

I wonder about the effects of adrenaline on the body in an emergency, and I am at a loss. Shaken.

I wonder about the detectives who had to walk into a building where 20 children were shot.

My 10 year old brother (older than all the students who were shot) said, "If he would have come into my class, our whole class would have died. There are 20 kids in my class and 20 kids were shot."

I heard about a teacher leading the children out of the building with their eyes closed so they weren't see the carnage.  My heart hurts.

And yet, I love my job. I love what I do. What a blessing to share Jesus with little children. May he be with me everyday as I do the job I love.

Come Lord Jesus, Come.