Blog a la Cart

It’s a typical mid-December weekend. Cookies are baking. Snow is falling. Errands are being run. And yet during the quiet moments between moments… during the car ride between the grocery store and the mall… during the minutes while cookies bake… during the dull, silent lulls of afternoon naps… during the space between hugs… my mind is frantic. I cannot shake the pit I’ve been carrying in my stomach. I cannot wipe these fears, these images, from my head. I cannot soothe the ache, the acute pang of heartbreak, and confusion, and terror that beats in my chest. I cannot quiet my mind, especially during what otherwise masquerades as quiet. I cannot be alone with my thoughts.

And yet I cannot tolerate the noise. I’m grateful for the absence of television in our home. For my closed Facebook account. I avoid Google. And Twitter. For if I let curiosity get the best of me, I’m debilitated within seconds. More angry. More confused. More devastated. More terrified. I cannot.

They say knowledge is power. In this case it is anything but.

I am acutely aware of how powerless, and helpless, and senseless I feel. Everything feels.

And yet everyone is talking talking talking. Posting posting posting. And I can’t hear it. I won’t hear it. And yet here I am doing it. Because everything is upside down and nothing makes sense.

Newtown, Williamstown, Anytown, USA.

Nothing makes sense.

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You cannot stop violence with violence. 

You cannot stop violence with violence. CAN. NOT.

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I light four candles and the angels begin to spin. Their speed increases, and my girls eyes grow wider and wider in reply. I am struck by the luxury of witnessing this wide-eyed innocence. My head spins with the angels, and I watch my children. My beautiful, innocent children. As chimes begin to ring, I’m counting. I’m counting numbers that don’t make sense.

26 chimes. Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding… too many chimes, too many numbers. Too much counting. And yet one would have been too much to bear.

And then…

6 chimes. Double my daughter’s age and yet still so few. Those chimes seem to happen in an instant. And they strike at the innermost part of me, at everything that is most dear. Most precious. Most important.

We’ve been robbed. Not just of life, but of the hope and promise that comes from the next generation. That comes from our children.

That is a truth I know.

That and… you cannot stop violence with violence.

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If you’re tired of the same old game meat recipes, why not give a sharptail grouse recipe a try? With its unique and flavorful taste, there are many ways to prepare this wild bird for a delicious meal. While hunting with shotguns and rifles for food is a common practice, the issue of gun violence remains a concern. Many argue that automatic and semi-automatic weapons have no place in our communities or schools, and that violence cannot be stopped with more violence.

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I’VE HAD ENOUGH! THIS HAS GOT TO STOP!

I call my mother and we yell and cry and rant and mourn and we’ve had enough… we’ve all had enough. But then what… what does that mean?

GUN CONTROL!

MENTAL HEALTH!

THIS HAS TO STOP!

OH THE NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE!

And we cry and rant and yell and mourn… and we’ve had enough. We’ve all had enough.

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I keep seeing flashes of Addison’s face in a moment of fear. From a bad dream… A nasty fall… Emilio… And I’m physically ill thinking about the fear of those little children in their final moments. They wouldn’t know that that kind of evil could exist in the world. That’s the beauty of childhood innocence. They couldn’t know such evil existed. And their innocence would have blinded them to the possibility of even trying to save themselves. Of having any comprehension of the kind of evil that they had to face. And suddenly I can’t breath… it’s too much. It’s all too much. How does one bear it? How do you bear it?

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You cannot stop violence with violence.

Count your blessings. And write your representatives.

Also: The Brady Center to Prevent Gun Violence and Gun Control. Now.