This morning, as I poured my coffee, I looked out my kitchen window. Up the street ran (not walked) three little boys on their way to catch their bus. They weren’t late. They were just running because they wanted to. I smiled.
“Maybe that’s why grown men run. They miss it.” I thought.
Then I went about my business of the day: getting ready for my little almost four-month-old grandson to visit my house for the first time. Surely this super-charged energy is the rush that grandmothers everywhere feel. Presents under the tree. Ornaments. Stockings. Christmas.
Later, as I was about to go out, I heard the stunning, unfathomable, impossible to even take in, unspeakable news about the Connecticut elementary school children’s deaths, along with school officials and teachers. How could this even be true?
Just a few moments ago, as I was preparing to go about the business of more kitchen duties, I once again glanced out the window. I saw the familiar yellow bus going by on the same street where I had watched those carefree little boys this morning, and I thought of them again.
Only this time I didn’t smile. I cried.
Heartfelt prayers go out to those parents, families, friends and the entire community of Newtown, Connecticut. Also, to all of us who mourn with them over this tragic and senseless loss of beautiful little children and those whose charge they were in. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”