Hi friends,
I’ve had nightmares off and on since Sandy Hook. I remember standing outside my eldest daughter’s little classroom that cold bright day - she is the same age as those babies - waiting for her, feeling like my whole heart was actively breaking, like I could crawl out of my skin with grief. I was too early for the bell but we were all early that day. And her little face appeared at the classroom window, grinning gap-toothed, waving, and then I was waving back, so relieved at the sight of her, while other mothers far away sat empty-armed on the floor of a fire house.
I have wept and raged and despaired all over again this week for the babies in Texas, their families, and their community. On that first night, like so many of us, I sneaked into the room of our youngest at midnight, just to put my hands on her little body, hear her soft breath. I prayed for the parents of Uvalde from her twin bed, travailing in tongues and tears beside her worn stuffed bunny.
In the night, we are a borderless chorus of mamas, watching with those who weep and waiting for morning dawn relief that will not come. Our marrow aches underneath the tragic constancy of our routine. We know how your heart can be broken and you still empty the dishwasher.
We want to snatch our tinies up and run away somewhere, anywhere, surely there is a place we can hide from this horror, the terrors of death stalking. But there we were and still are, waiting until the bell rings. We turn off the news before the kids see, we make spaghetti. The names and places carried far from their homes to all of us: adding their faces to the Charleston Nine, Buffalo, on and on and on.
We need the God who sees, and God with us. Light a candle, light a candle, say a prayer. We try to say “redeem us, save us, see us, help us, love us, comfort us, change us, we are being destroyed” but sometimes it comes out of our mouths as, “what in the actual fuck are we doing, God?” because we are turned inside out and then God weeps with us, a Mother too.
What an empty death cult is this selfish notion of “freedom” that values assault rifles over ten year olds. I don’t understand. How could anyone? It’s demonic. How everyone isn’t throwing every weapon into the depths of the sea, I will never understand.
I’m an outsider to America. I never know what I’m allowed to say and not allowed to say so I usually defer, mind my own business (there is plenty of it here). But there isn’t really any such thing as ‘outsider’ when each other’s babies or elders are involved. I can’t call a senator or vote or even march but I can pray and I can say that I’m sorry and I can tell you that you’re right, you’re right, it doesn’t have to be this way.
God, friends. I’m so sorry.
Saying that we grieve with you isn’t sufficient but it’s true. So many of us around the world are grieving and praying and raging with you, America.
It doesn’t have to be this way.
May poets and prophets and policy makers arise in holy courage and conviction.
May psalmists and pragmatists and pastors cry out for justice.
May you hold the powerful wicked ones accountable and turn AR-15s into garden tools.
May you gather around the grieving in strong love that protects.
May you not give in to despair. May you contend for the vulnerable. May you be a thorn in the side of the enemy that seeks to kill, steal, and destroy.
It doesn’t have to be this way.
But it is and so many of us around the world grieve, we grieve, we grieve with you.
In solidarity,
S.
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Thank you so much for this— I needed to feel some solidarity today. I live in a red state (Missouri) and grew up as a standard conservative, meaning that I know exactly what pro-2nd-amendment believers will say after this: "The only solution to a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun." Their answer is always more guns. I believed that for most of my life, and even though I changed my mind, it's hard to feel like anyone else's mind will change, least of which my representatives who want any chance of getting reelected. I grieved, I donated money, I wrote my reps (even though it feels like screaming into the void), but it's difficult to have any hope here in the middle of "Guns will keep us safe" country. I'll keep fighting without hope, but it's good to feel some solidarity along the way. So thank you again.
Thanks Sarah. Our hearts are broken and our country's heart need to change. Let it begin with me.