It’s happened again. Another angry/lonely/sad/abused/disturbed child slaughters his peers. We are heartsick and bereft. We rail. Our leaders offer platitudes and inaction. We argue guns/people/guns/people/guns/people. Fear and strawman arguments keep us from the salient points. Ultimately, we accept inaction. The cycle continues.
I can’t take it. I can’t. I will explode with the sheer magnitude and the oppressive weight of helplessness. I’m aghast that gun violence is so rampant and widespread in this country. I’m aghast that some argue for more guns. I see the insanity…and yet I know I can’t stop it. I can add my voice, and I can rally. I can protest, and I can vote. But I can’t make it stop.
But what I can do is love the kids. I can teach them…I can be there for them…I can see them…I can acknowledge them. I can’t save them all, and I can’t turn the world aright for them. But I can guide and direct and listen and love. I can be a safe place for them, an encouragement, a light. I can let them teach me as well. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll light a spark in one, ease the mind of another, comfort another’s heart. Maybe the love and light and peace I offer will flame in them and carry onward and outward. Maybe by mentoring them I’ll ease some of the anguish of my own heart. Maybe I’ll help prevent some of theirs.
I have to believe that love matters.
It matters.
Oh, I hope it matters.