It wouldn’t seem appropriate for me to go along writing posts without commenting on the horrific tragedy on Friday in Newtown Connecticut.
I was fairly stone cold when I heard about it late Friday afternoon. I mean, how on earth could this happen again? How on earth can people get their hands on these weapons? How on earth are people that mad? I didn’t weep. I didn’t feel. I was numb.
My numbness quickly turned to anger. I found myself Monday scouring online news pages wanting to learn more details, wanting to learn about Nancy Lanza, her gun collection and her relationship with her son. I found myself even commenting on these news stories, venting my anger over my perceived knowledge of events, about the Lanza’s life and my absolute confusion about why a upper class suburban housewife would need an assault rifle and massive amounts of ammunition.
I was blaming Nancy Lanza.
This morning however, my anger finally turned to grief. Ironically it happened when I saw Bishop T.D. Jakes on CNN (of all things). I wept. My heart broke. My anger disappeared. This could of happened to any one of our children. No one is immune to this type of thing. I can sit here in Canada and spout off about gun control all I want, but children are shot here too.
I can judge. I can make accusations. I did. I am human. We are all entitled to our judgements and opinions. I’m sure we all feel things can be changed from this, and things do need to change. But the fact is we don’t have all the facts. We don’t know the whole story.
And until then, I will withhold my opinion and just grieve for these families. It seems the appropriate time to do so. These parents will be burying their babies just before Christmas. Gifts are wrapped under the tree with their names on them. Little brothers and sisters are confused. It’s horrifically sad.
There is plenty of time to dissect and figure out who failed who in the coming months. But until we know everything, we can’t pretend to.