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.