Silence

Apologies in advance: this is a bit of a stream of consciousness.

Tonight was our school’s annual Christmas show. Usually a festive time. Tonight, pensive, though. Beforehand, waiting with oldest in the lobby to be gathered in with his classmates, I noticed lots of parents. Lots of protective parents, watching over their kids, much more so than usual.

Lots and lots of protective parents.

Then, inside, talking with other parents before the show started (and with a noticeable absence of kids) we discussed today’s senseless set of events in Newtown, CT, that led to twenty children, mostly kindergarteners, being shot dead in their classroom.

Before the kids came in, the principal and the pastor both had words on the day’s events, prayers of comfort for those who lost so much.

The kids sang Silent Night. Doubt there was a dry eye in the house at that point.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, and, of late, the Star Trek reboot are my favorite Trek stories, because they discuss Kirk’s defeat of the infamous Kobayashi Maru test. It is a test you’re supposed to fail, that’s really designed more to see how you cope with defeat, with failure, with death.

I despise death.

I’ve experienced it too much in my life. Grandparents. Parents. Two daughters. Each time, you go searching for information that might change the outcome. You put in amazing hours of thought trying to solve an unsolvable problem.

In the end, we are left without answers. And we always want them. We want to know where we went wrong. Then, with those who passed from old age, or a mysterious infection, or an allergic reaction, or from heartbreak; today, we want to know what could’ve been done to change this outcome.

But we don’t get that. Just God does. And that makes a lot of us hate Him.

We want to eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge. What we heard about two weeks ago, at the start of Advent. So we can know, so we can be more like God.

But we don’t get to anymore. Because what we found when we did eat of that tree was that we noticed our imperfection. And for that we received our mortality.

So I have no answers. I have no reasons. I just have what I can see, and feel, and believe in. And if that’s enough for me, then that should be a good day.

But it isn’t. My heart aches for those parents. My prayers are with them. After seeing the news today, I went to lunch. It took a lot for me to not order a stiff drink. Or six.

The show was great. I’ll watch what I taped again tomorrow. Tonight though I must rest. And pray. Constant prayer.

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