Senseless

On December 14, 2012, I was at work when someone told me there'd been another mass shooting--this time in Connecticut, at a school. Some children had been killed, he said.

Throughout the day, as I drove from one work site to another, more details came snowballing through the radio. Horrifying stories of teachers trying to protect their students and being shot down. The description of the sheer number of shots, the screaming, the terror.

Driving home, I just felt sick. Sad. Angry. Hopeless.

I pulled into the driveway, parked the car. I walked swiftly from my car to my front door in the drizzly chill of Friday evening, shaking slightly but not from the cold.

I opened the front door to warmth and light and joy, little strong arms wrapped around my neck, loving faces pressed against mine.

Minutes later, after I gestured my husband to follow me down the hall to our bedroom, we collapsed on the bed together, holding on tightly.

"I feel sick I'm so sad," I said.

Today I am still sad, and still heartsick, but hopeful. Hopeful that we are finally having a larger conversation about how such a thing could happen. Something is broken, horribly horribly broken. I am hopeful that as a culture we can move beyond fear and come together and fix it. I have to believe in something. It is just too horrible and senseless otherwise.