Let the Little Ones Come to Me

Thursday morning found me sitting in a room full of grandparents and parents waiting for the annual Christmas program at the elementary school.  With a grandson in pre-school and one in first grade, I had arrived early to be sure of a good seat with a clear view (so did everyone else!), so we spent the time chatting about our little darlings and catching up on news. 

I sat there with a huge, silly grin on my face as the little ones filed in to sing.  The grandsons sang with tremendous seriousness, trying hard to remember every word and gesture.  Their eyes searched the sea of faces until they spotted the familiar grins in our row, then standing a bit taller they gave a little grin back.  I don't know who was prouder- me or them, but we both thought they were doing a pretty spectacular job.

This little scene was repeated around the room as parents and grandparents filled the air with the intensity of their pride and love.  The kids sang their hearts out with the joyful, innocent enthusiasm that only the very young possess.  As the music floated through the room, more than one eye was damp.

Then on Friday, I sat stunned, with a nation, while we watched in horror the unfolding story of death and sadness.  The unbelievable had happened.  Our most precious things, our children, had been attacked.  I thought of all the innocent faces of the children I had watched the day before and the pride and love of their families.  Then I thought of those parents who would not hold their precious little ones again and I cried with the nation. 

Murder is always hideous, but the taking of children who live so intensely in the moment and bring such joy to those around them , is somehow so much more heinous.  They are too young to understand hate, envy, political views, distrust, revenge, or rage but only live to be happy.

We can only begin to imagine the pain and agony that these people will endure as they try to deal with their loss.  We can't help them.  We can only mourn with them in our own small way.  We'll hug our little ones and deep down inside we will be glad that we aren't the ones suffering. 

And we'll weep.