... at 9:36pm, I returned a phone call and my world changed. My husband and I had been working on the household budget - something I really hate doing - and I had ignored the three calls that had come in during our more-that-a little-aggressive conversation about the cost of life in the 21st century. Upon checking the phone and seeing that it was the same person each time, I decided to take a break from finances and make sure everything was okay. It was not.
She called to tell me that a friend of hers / acquaintance of mine had killed his two children and, subsequently been killed by the police.
Pausing - Did I just write those words? So "matter of fact"....
How could this happen? My six year old was just playing at the park with one of those sweet little boys last week! My son and his son - both fathers at the park.... playing and laughing. My husband came home sharing stories about how much the boys enjoyed each other, how much they looked alike, that they have the same "favorite super heroes." And today - the spokesperson for the sheriff's office says the children suffered "severe injuries." My ears want to close so I cannot hear anymore - and, at the same time, I have to know what happened.
I wish I could say I feel numb. The truth is - I feel everything but that. At different moments, I feel incredible sadness, disbelief, anger, confusion, and fear. My once-so-safe world is not so safe today. What could compel a parent to kill a little child? These kids were 2 and 5. They were babies. More confusing is the fact that they were their father's pride and joy. How does a father who adores his children murder them? My mind can make no sense of this.
It is painfully clear that the parents have been struggling through a separation for months and that the arguments between them may well have been at the core of this tragedy. It makes me ponder the destructive power of love - and the difference between real love and our own need to be loved, at any cost, in order to overcome our own issues of self worth. It also makes me question my ability to accept that some people actually "go insane." I prefer my rose-colored glasses, thank you very much.
I guess I should include the fact that I am a minister and so my first reaction is always to "be there" for whomever is in need. My husband has come to know me well and could tell by my conversation what had happened. He was standing, open-armed, waiting for me when I hung up the phone. I cried...for the children...for the father...for the mother who must somehow find a way to live through this... for the caller who knows her friend was not an evil man but must hear the media describe him as such...and to relieve my own undefined fear.
Fathers are not supposed to kill their children - not in my world, anyway.
The caller took some Valium and went to sleep. My husband and I spent the rest of the evening snuggling our child between us on the couch, watching a Disney movie and doing what we each needed to do to find comfort in the safety of our home, distracting ourselves from a horror almost beyond our comprehension. This morning, we held each other again as the reality of the night before came crashing in.
The phone has begun ringing.
Its now my job to serve - to listen and to comfort. It's my job to help others whose world has been shattered much more than my own. Somehow, as is always the case, Spirit will show me the way. Spirit always does.
Still, in this moment, in this forum, I am not "the minister" - I am a woman and a mother struggling with the primal rage of our world, and grateful for a place to share my own human anguish.
Pausing again - this time to hug a naked little six year old boy who has just crawled out of bed and into my lap to whisper "Good morning, Mommy. Can I watch a movie? Isn't it cool that I had a 'Ben 10' episode for a dream?"
"Good morning, sweet little boy. Yes, that's very cool!"
