Today is a tough
day. When you wake up to find out that
children have been senselessly killed, it is a tough day. When you find out
that many of them may have been kindergarten age, it gets worse.
There are a range of
emotions. Anger, concern, profound
sadness, helplessness ... I find it tough to move on with the mundane and a
beautiful day with lots of fun things happening is suddenly less shiny and
perfect.
As I have sat here
the last few moments and tried to sort our my thoughts I am amazed at the
instant outpouring of compassion from people.
These children are "our" children. They live where we live, they look like us,
they have similar beliefs and hopes and dreams. They are gone. Children should not die and they certainly
should not be the victims of violence.
And then I had a
realization that hit me pretty hard. I have actually woken other mornings to
news of children, kindergarten age, killed ... and it did not impact my
day. In fact, I have been guilty of
glancing over the stories. The only
difference is that the children were on the other side of the world. They were
not "my" children.
Have I somewhere in
my head where it matters WHICH children are dead? Do I really divide up my compassion between
"their" children and "our" children, even as hard as I have
tried to be a loving and compassionate person?
Because I don't want
to be that person.
This is not about
religion or culture. This is about human
beings, families - mothers and fathers and children and the feelings we all
share. NO child should die . NO child should be the victim of violence.
War and Hate are
adult things. They are taught things and
learned things. It is so easy to be
infected with complacency and start to lose hold of our humanity.
When we cease to
have compassion for ANY child, it is time to stop whatever we are doing and
desperately search for our humanity.
Everything else is pointless until it is found.
Agreed
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