Tag: tragedy

It’s What We Make of It

This morning I had to drop some of my teens off at the church early. Since I was in the area, I headed over to Victor Ashe Park to get my run/walk in. I love Victor Ashe Park. It has a giant playing field that is used for soccer and ultimate frisbee, it has several miles of walking trails, it has a disc golf course along with a dog park, a playground, restrooms and a big pavilion. 

It was eight o’clock in the morning on a Saturday, but there were already a lot of people there. There were women walking in groups, talking just as fast as they were moving. I saw several solo dads out walking little babies in strollers. There were couples holding hands as they dawdled along. People walking their dogs. There was one super-fit couple who were running together, briskly outpacing everyone. There was an elderly gentleman who was out jogging and our paces were just similar enough that we kept overlapping each other. He would jog a while and then walk and while he was walking I would jog a while and then walk. It got a bit awkward. 🙂  I found myself mentally urging him on, Run faster! Run faster! Just cause I didn’t want to pass him again when he was walking. 

When I got back to the pavilion at the end, there was a drumming exercise class going on. The instructor was obviously doing her life passion as she taught this class. She was pumped, excited, hooting and hollering as she urged her class on. They had really fun music and I really wished I could join them. I went over to a paved area and sat and stretched and watched the class. There was another couple not far from me who looked like they were at the very beginning of their fitness journey, but they had exercise mats and weights and were working out together. And it felt like the entire attitude of everyone there was, We are here to exercise and enjoy nature! And everyone smiled and nodded at each other. And it was very inspiring to be a part of this energetic group. 

Lately I’ve kind of been feeling like I’m living in two duel universes. There is the universe of Social Media. In that universe, people say mean things to each other without a second thought. We talk trash about people in leadership. We share mean jokes. The news is always bad, the world is about to end and it’s all EVERYONE ELSE’S fault. We hear all about the bad things that are happening at home and everywhere else in the world. And people just seem not-so-friendly. 

And then, there is the unplugged universe. Daily life walking around my city. Going to the park where regular people are enjoying themselves, nodding and smiling at strangers. The more gregarious ones start up friendly chats. Dogs on leashes wag their tails. The grass is green. The trees are majestic. The exercise class has their fun music blasting. Kids are running, giggling, down the pathway. 

Honestly, the daily life of the unplugged universe is a lot more beautiful than the plugged in one. And yes, I know, I’m posting this blog on the internet, sharing it on social media. It’s a bit hypocritical. Except, the plugged in universe is what we make it. I would say, for me, I am trying to learn how to unplug often, and when I am plugged in, try to bring some of the beauty with me. 

Which, I guess, is why I tell you all about the everyday stuff. Like walks in the park. 

POST SCRIPT: I know that life isn’t just roses and sunshine. There’s tragedy in the unplugged universe. And I appreciate the plugged in universe’s power to connect us together so we can help out in urgent situations. As always, it’s about balance.

We are Done!

Today was the kids’ last half-day of school. Got up early, took the kids to school for the last time, took my virtual student by the high school to drop off her text books, went and picked up kids from school. We still have a drive-thru 5th grade send-off that we have to go to this afternoon and then we are officially done. 

What a year. 

Red days for high covid numbers. Red days for gun violence in the neighborhood. Finding clean masks every day, collecting the dirty masks every day. Signing homework folders every night. Never ending car lines for pick up. Lots of debates about virtual school, masks, school safety. Lots of tragedy. Five students dead this year. Trauma. School lockdowns.  

Art projects. Kids excitedly practicing their Spanish from their new Spanish class. Watching my first grader grow in her ability to read. Seeing my fifth grader blossom as he walked into leadership positions. New friends made. Projects finished. Presentations given. Awards won. Recognition for good sportsmanship. Classes completed. Lessons learned. 

So, I say thank you to all the teachers who made the best of a crazy year. Thank you to all the administration who made the best decisions you could. Thank you to all the support staff that cleaned and cooked and loved on the kids. 

We made it! We never have to do this year again! May the next school year be peaceful and easy and a walk in the park in comparison. 

We’ll see you all again in the Fall. 

“Don’t Talk” a poem

Tired.

Weary.

My brain has turned off. 

I have reached full capacity. 

Do not tell me anymore what is in the news. 

Do not tell me of yet another tragedy. 

Don’t try to rehash what happened. 

Don’t ask about solutions.

As if my tiny bit of wisdom could somehow fix the unfixable. 

Don’t talk. 

Cry. 

Come alongside me and mourn. 

This is a time for sackcloth. 

Ashes. 

A time for solemn silence. 

I don’t want to hear the talking heads on the tv. 

I don’t want to have discussions on what possibly went wrong. 

I just need silence. 

Let us mourn together. 

In silence perhaps our souls can mend. 

And maybe, we can talk, discuss, plan, fix everything…

Tomorrow. 

More Tragedy

This past Monday our community, school, family walked through yet another tragedy in a year that has been full of them. My daughters’ highschool had an “officer involved shooting” in the school. The Tennessee Bureau of Investigations wanted to make it clear that this was not a “school shooting” where someone has brought a gun to the school with the intent of hurting people at the school, but was rather the result of a police officer engaging a student who was suspected of having a gun, and gunfire was exchanged. A police officer was injured, but is recovering, and the student is dead. 

For our family, we had an entire hour, from the moment the highschool was put in lockdown at the end of the school day, until we managed to get everyone home, that we had no idea what was going on. All we knew was that there was danger, a really big situation, and my daughter was in the building where all this danger was happening. 

The school district did not communicate with the parents during the whole thing which made the fear worse. Monday night I wrote the school district, voicing my complaints about the lack of communication with parents, and they personally called me the next day to apologize and say that this was an area they were going to improve in. 

My elementary school kids were also put in lockdown, (the school is relatively close to the high school) moments before they were to be dismissed. The teachers at the elementary school did not know what was happening, just that they were in a hard lockdown. They presumed there was imminent danger, and their fear and stress leaked over to the kids they were watching. My 1st and 2nd grader were crying when they finally were released to come get in my car. They told me later that they thought they were about to be shot by a bad guy. 

After I finally had all my elementary kids in my car, we then had to maneuver through police barricades until we finally found an access point where we could get to my daughter who was waiting at the high school for me. And during all of this there was a police helicopter swooping overhead making us all feel that we were in a war zone. 

When we got home I wouldn’t let the kids play outside because the helicopter was still present, making circles over our house (we live close to the highschool) and I had no idea if the helicopter was actively looking for someone in our neighborhood. So the kids huddled inside, looking out the windows, waiting for the danger to pass. And I sat, scanning all the social media and news sites I could find, trying to get information on what was happening. 

My husband came home early and I walked into his embrace and as he held me, I felt everything going black in my head, and was sure, for a moment, that I was going to faint. Rumors were flying and we heard that our principal, a man I admire, might have been shot. Was the office staff all wounded? How many people were dead? At one point in time I just hid in my kitchen and cried. Trying to avoid the kids, not wanting to increase their stress by having a complete breakdown myself. 

It took quite a while for all the details to come out. And now, On Wednesday, we still have not heard the name of the student who has died. And my daughter is supposedly supposed to return to school tomorrow, but I have a million questions, and none of them have been answered yet. 

Yesterday I gathered up all the kids, emailed all the elementary teachers telling them my kids would not be in school, and we left town and spent the day with my parents. 

Yesterday I would say that my stress level was at ninety-five out of a hundred. This morning I think I’ve got it down to maybe a forty? 

Yesterday morning I was feeling pretty horrible. Angry, agitated. I sat down and found myself rocking back and forth. Good grief. I was also feeling a lot of condemnation. Look at you! Where is your faith and your peace? And I had to stop and speak some truth to myself. You have just gone through a very stressful situation and your body and emotions are responding to that. You have to give yourself permission to recover from this. And, God is still good, and still in control, so we are going to cling to that and give ourselves some time to decompress and recover. 

So, Wednesday morning, I’m doing better than yesterday, but still feeling a bit shell-shocked. 

I haven’t even started processing the situation at our school, but I feel like I at least got the rocking boat of our family back onto calmer waters. 

Shadow

My son Joshua got a kitten last year. We decided to not get her fixed right away. Let her have one litter of kittens so our kids could experience the miracle of life. I conveniently forgot that hand in hand with the miracle of life comes the tragedy of death. 

 

My foster son has been asking me for a kitten for five months. Five very long months. Practically every day we would have a conversation about kittens. Finally, our cat became pregnant and we promised him that he could choose one of the kittens. He chose a very sweet little black kitten with white markings, named him Shadow. 

 

This morning we discovered that in the night Mama Cat had decided to move her kittens. She had put them in a dangerous place and the little black kitten had gotten squished somehow and had died. 

 

They brought him to me in their hands, crying, hoping that I could fix it. I frantically looked for any signs of life, ready to rush to the vet immediately, but the kitten was dead. And I sat there crying, because it was a sweet innocent little thing. And it was my foster son’s. And he doesn’t deserve this kind of tragedy in his life. 

 

One of my daughters brought me a cloth that we could wrap him up in. My husband dug a hole in the back of the yard. We had a funeral. We buried him and then shared our memories. I told the kids that it’s customary to put flowers on a grave and they ran and found flowers. We fashioned a tombstone and my foster son wrote his memorial on it. 

 

And right now life just feels sucky. 

 

Rest in Peace little Shadow.

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