Witching hour

I apologize in advance for the pinball effect my brain is taking while writing this post. The night before last I woke up at 3:30 with a hot flash, 4:15 when Damon used the bathroom, 5:45 when Dada's first alarm went off, 6 when Carrie got into the shower, and I got up for good at 6:15. Last night I was awake again at three. I looked it up, idly wondering if 3 AM has any other names, and discovered it's called the witching hour. Here I've been using that interchangeably with the time between the kids waking up and leaving for school, the time they get home/eat dinner/attempt homework/leave for karate, and bedtime. I've told Dada on numerous occasions that I live three witching hours on a daily basis. Now I'll have to think of something else to call them. 

Anyway, what a bizarre beginning of spring. It's supposed to be a time of new life and warmth and vibrance. Saturday was close to 70 degrees. Last Saturday it snowed. Yesterday it was almost 70 again, yet tomorrow it's to be not quite 50. 

But that's not even what I'm talking about. 

Our high school lost a student this week, and, in the midst of state testing which happens on various days in different schools this week, one of our elementary schools received a bomb threat. 

My first thoughts were anger and frustration, and I almost blogged something incendiary and name-calling. Then I thought about how that could be like adding accelerant to a fire. Even if only my heart were affected, it wouldn't be a good or even helpful route. So I waited. And I thought some more. 

I'm still thinking, still processing all of the thoughts swirling around in my head. Our high schooler is a sophomore, the same year as the student who has passed away, though they didn't travel in the same circles. I myself was a sophomore when I lost a classmate to suicide, many, many moons ago. The similarities are striking; well-liked and active are the adjectives I'm seeing in the news. My heart won't even let me imagine the devastation his family and friends must be experiencing.

To go from that tragedy to receiving a phone call describing a received bomb threat and the sequence of events that sets into motion simply renders me speechless. How badly must you feel about yourself to attempt to win attention by threatening an elementary school? How is there nobody in someone's life to speak reason and truth and love into a desperate spirit? 

Who else are we missing?

My heart aches for these small kids who are already on edge about the big, scary state tests who are now reluctant to go to their school where they have every right to feel safe and loved. They should be enjoying the sunshine at recess, not worrying about bomb-sniffing dogs missing something important. My particular third grader wasn't reassured that the school would be checked and cleared last night because what if someone did something early this morning after they'd checked? No eight year old anywhere should have to have that cross their mind. And to the heroes who are teachers, I'm sorry that it has to cross your minds as well. Your jobs are hard enough already!

I get it that life for us here is mostly easy. I am well aware of true horrors happening the world over and that my kids have an incredibly cushy life by comparison.  And no joke, Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire" is playing right now as I type, reminding me that bad things happening is nothing new. 

It makes me ask, what are we missing? If looked at logically, we are making lots of positive steps: Buddy Benches, lunch and recess buddies, zero tolerance for bullying, all excellent components for a community of inclusion. I understand that there will always be those who slip through the cracks, deliberately or accidentally. 

My faith answers that we are forgetting to include someone in our strategies, the one who will go on once we are dead, gone, and forgotten. Whoever you are, whatever you're struggling with, and we are all struggling with at least one something, you need to know that you matter and that you are loved. We are for the most part so careful to teach this to small people, but the truth is that no matter how old we grow we will not need to be loved any less. We may be able to hide that we need it or even trick ourselves into thinking that we don't, but it most certainly is not the truth. 

A lot of people talk about taking God out of our schools. It can't be done. He is everywhere. However, where we need him most is in our hearts. If we invite him in, we will be secure in our identity in him and will not need to threaten violence in order to seek attention. If we invite him in, our small and human ability to love and accept others will be greatly increased as we access his love and forgiveness. I'm not saying that life with Christ in your heart is perfect; none of us can achieve that, not here in this broken world. I AM saying that life is better because you're not alone, because you have access to resources you don't have innately yourself, because you grow a community and a tribe and a family, because you matter and when you know that you matter, you realize that other people do, too. Other flawed, broken, misguided, unlovely people.  People with addictions, attitudes, and mistakes hanging onto them as a heavy chain holds an unruly dog. We have got to learn who to give this Stuff to so that our hands can be open to reach out to help free others. We need to stop holding on to what separates us from each other. 

Nobody should be afraid to go to school. Nobody should feel like there is not one person out there who gets them. Yes, we are all busy, but busy doing what? Are we busy doing what is going to make a positive impact in someone else's life? What would it look like if our hearts were full enough of compassion for others that there was no room left in them for fear? I realize that only one of us isn't going to save the world. Recycle anyway. Volunteer anyway. Love anyway. Forgive anyway. Bless others anyway. It's only a drop in the bucket, you say. Yes, but look; the ripples from that single drop changes the surface of the entire bucket. Better families lead to healthier communities, which bring up our state, which strengthens our nation, which helps stabilize the world. Do good for others. You might help save us all.