What I will tell my children about the Newtown Massacre

Nat Sakunworarat

My readers, my friends, on this day after tragedy, if I could I would just sit with you and listen and validate your feelings about what has happened.  Since I can’t be there with each of you, I will share my thoughts, and hope that perhaps they will be helpful to someone in need.

Because of my past, I struggle with the concept of “safety”.  I think I stopped believing in that idea long before I stopped believing in Santa.  “No safe places,” is a mantra from long ago and deep within. 

So when I received emails from my school district, with suggestions on how to talk to children about the tragedy, and the first item on the list was “assure the children that schools are safe.”  I balked.  Big time.  How in the world can I tell them, in the light of today’s events, that schools are safe?  I would feel like a hypocrite.  I mentioned to my co-worker what a ridiculous idea I thought that was.  He said the idea is to reassure them and not….here he launched into what is best described as an imitation of Chicken Little.  Only in his version the sky was not falling, but schools were not safe.  All right, point taken, however, I still can’t tell my children schools are safe because I don’t believe in safe places.  So what should I tell them--and myself?

I wish I could tell them God will protect you.  But clearly God does not prevent these kinds of tragedies from happening, so a simple “God will protect” you is not enough.  As an adult, it comforts me to think of Jesus with Mary and Martha after Lazarus died.  Even though he knew that in a moment He would raise Lazarus from the dead, He still felt their pain and wept with them.  I believe He weeps with us now, after today’s events.  That comforts me, but I don’t think that would help the children.  It sure doesn’t feel like enough.  So what then?

Sometimes inspiration comes from the strangest places, and for me it came from a quote being passed around Facebook.  This is from Fred Rogers:

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers.  You will always find people who are helping.’  

"To this day, especially in times of ‘disaster’, I remember my mother’s words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers—so many caring people in this world.”

Look for the helpers.  Yes! I love that.  In today’s tragedy there were teachers, and police men and swat teams that knew what to do and took action quickly. One of those helpers was a teacher, Kaitlin Roig.  She acted quickly, closing her classroom door and ushering all the children into the class bathroom and blocked the door.  Roig said:

"If they started crying, I would take their face and tell them, 'It's going to be OK,. . .I told the kids I love them and I was so happy they were my students... I said anyone who believed in the power of the prayer, we need to pray and those who don't believe in prayer think happy thoughts."  Article attribution here

In hurricanes, and earthquakes, there are always helpers.  That is something I can feel comfortable telling my children, “God can’t always prevent tragedies, but He will send someone to help.  When bad things happen, look for the helpers.”

One of my favorite books, The Hiding Place, reaffirms this.  Corrie Ten Boom said that she wrote the book to show that “there is no pit so deep that He is not deeper still.”  Corrie Ten Boom and her family were Christians living in Holland during Hitler’s reign.  They were part of a sort of underground railroad that helped 100’s of Jewish people escape.  However, they got caught and Corrie, her father and her sister were sent to a concentration camp.  Her sister and father died there.  Still Corrie shares in her book, many times throughout her tragedy where there were little miracles…helpers, if you will.

I can also tell my children that the children who died are in the arms of the Savior now.  They are not afraid anymore.  They are not hurting.  But what can I tell myself about the parents of those children?  I have never lost a child, and I pray I never have to know that pain.  I hope that perhaps those who have can find comfort from God who allowed His only Begotten to suffer and die for us.  Another tragedy that He could not prevent.

I don’t think that I will ever believe in safe places, but I do believe in a God who weeps with us, and sends “helpers”, maybe even angels and miracles to see us through the dark hours.

Photo Attribution: Nat Sakunworarat

That Thing We Call Death

Death is a subject that keeps coming before me lately, like a red stop light demanding my attention. No, not my death, though Heaven knows that is a topic I have come face to face with. My red light moments have been more about how I could use my experiences to help someone else who is struggling at the same stop.

Dying is really about living. It is about how you lived your life, about success' and unfortunately regrets, things you wish you would have done differently, things you wish you could have done.

Dying is about being remembered when you are gone. When your shadow is no longer here, what will remain to mark that you were here? Who will remember you? What will they remember?

Dying is about fear: fear of the unknown, fear of the pain of those who are left behind, fear of things left undone. It is fear of how the end will come.

When we are given a chance to ponder death, before it comes to us, it can be a blessing, an awakening.

Dying is like a magnifying glass, in that it brings things into a sharp focus. It gives us clarity about what we really value and who we are and who we would like to be.

As I write this I realize that I don't have any advice for those who are facing death. They know these things that I would share with them probably better than I do. My advice then is for the living. In the past, I have found it awkward to speak to someone I know has a terminal illness. What could I say?

Now, I understand. I would tell my loved one how much they mean to me. I would share memories of good times and bad. We would laugh and cry together. I would let them talk to me about their fears and regrets. I would reassure them that their success' far out weigh any short comings. I would tell them how they have positively affected my life and that I will always remember them. I would reassure them that the family "left behind" will be alright.

I would share with them my testimony of Jesus Christ. For me the times that I felt closest to death were also the times that I felt closest to the Lord. And I miss that. I truly do. That gives me hope. Yes, death can also be about hope.

Mostly, I would hold their hand, laugh and cry and rejoice that because of Christ we know this life is not the end.