Newtown

Like many I have been trying to come to terms with what happened in Newtown. I stood in the office on Friday and watched the news with men I work with. With men who have served in combat. I saw their eyes were as red as mine as we tried to maintain composure. As we tried to process what was unfolding before us. I have been so inconsolably sad since then. So sad and so horrified.

I know this is ostensibly a political blog, but politics just seem so much smaller today. I write today as a mom. On Friday I touched based with my 17-year old boy as I was heading out of town. I needed to know if he knew. I needed to know if he was OK. I needed to tell him I loved him. In the ways of the thoroughly modern teenage boy, we texted back and forth. He was OK, he knew, he didn’t want to talk about it and I let him know I loved him.

As any parent of a teenager will tell you, these can be trying times. The eye-rolling, the “Jeez Mom” exclamation, the not so subtle digs at my un-coolness (“Mom, it’s not the eighties anymore”) and the blood-pressure exploding “Mom, just relax” (and its variations) all serve to make some days seem like a never-ending contest of wills. It can be trying. It can be exhausting. But at least I have these moments.

20 little boys and girls were taken from their families in the most senseless and violent of ways. 20 families grieve a loss so deep and so painful one wonders how they will ever survive. 20 families would give anything for the chance at a teenage eye-roll or smart remark. 20 families would give anything to be able to have an argument over homework, bed-time, or an overdue haircut.

If there can be anything good that comes out of this, maybe it is the rest of us have been shown a devastating alternative to what we have. Maybe we will be better parents as a result. Maybe we will hold our kids just a little closer. Maybe we will turn off the TV and sit down to have dinner. Maybe we will slow the pace a bit. Maybe we will cherish more and criticize less.

I know this; my heart is heavy for Newtown, but more full for my son. I have been so blessed he has become a caring, nurturing, inquisitive, sardonic, opinionated, funny, and somewhat irreverent young man. Today, I thank God for every eye-roll and contests of will. I have what 20 families will not have. After Friday, I think I finally understand the gift of life and I will never take it for granted again.

Hold your children. Love them. Celebrate them. Pray they grow old. And maybe even appreciate those teenage years.