The rain pounded the windows and wind whipped around the house as we worked on our lessons yesterday. Twice I ran outside to chase a flying garbage can, only to have it go flying off the back patio again. During one particularly violent gust of whistling wind a child looked at me and said, "Mommy, its scary out there." I gave her a hug and thanked God for a sturdy, warm house to shelter my children in.
Last night we walked into a different type of storm. At the closing of announcements, our pastor stood and asked the adults to meet in the sanctuary to pray for a local family after children had been taken to their classes. I saw five faces look at me and ask, "Mommy, what happened?" I felt my heart drop because I knew I needed to tell them something. I realized my 12 year old was heading up to youth group where all the other teens would know what had happened. I had no idea how closely connected other children were to the previous nights events - and I had failed to prepare my children for what they could be hearing. I looked at my 4 year old and thought "There is no reason why she should have to hear something like this." I quietly said, "Last night a grandma and two very little boys died. We will talk more about it when we get home."
I want my children to have a childhood. I want them to be able to grow, learn, laugh and play without the overwhelming burdens of this world. But sometimes, no matter what I do as a parent, the world creeps its way into their lives. I cannot shield them forever from the world, nor is it healthy for them to be overly protected from the effects of sin. One day, they must leave our home and go out into the world without me - and they need to be ready.
They need to hear that the safe, loving two-parent home they are growing up in is not the way many, or even most, children live. They need to understand that not everyone treats others with the love, respect, care and commitment that we require of them. They need to experience that choices have consequences. That sometimes those consequences are far reaching and are devastating to ourselves and others. They need to be ready to experience whatever life will bring their way, and it is my job to prepare them.
At home we spend a lot of time talking about God's love, grace and mercy; that He is always with us no matter what happens. They experience the effects of sin with every disagreement, squabble, angry moment, and selfish action. We teach forgiveness and extending God's grace to each other. They know that life isn't always fair and brings things we'd rather it did not: daddies are deployed, mommies get sad, children get sick and die. They have played with a neighbor's foster baby, helped pack shoe boxes for children without basic necessities, and bought toys for prisoner's children. We have talked about abortion, friends who live between two home due to divorce , terrorism and injustice. At every step I reassure them that God has an amazing plan that at times is very hard to understand. We teach them that it is man's sinful nature that causes all these things to happen, but we have a God who sacrificed himself so that one day we may live with Him and all these things will cease.
But sometimes it just comes too close to home and as their mother I need to find the delicate balance between sheltering hearts and minds that are not fully ready to experience what sin can do and preparing them to face a world full of evil.
So last night I brought them home and put the 2 youngest to bed with a lot of hugs, kisses, songs and prayers. I walked into our 7 year old's room and simply said, "Bud, last night a grandma and her 2 grandsons were killed. People at church know the family and are very sad. The pastor is talking with the parents and people are taking them meals. We need to pray for a very sad mommy and daddy." More prayers and hugs and I turned off the light and left the room.
Next was the older girls. As I walked in, the 12 year old looked at me, pale and eyes full of tears. "Mommy, I heard what happened"
"I know." I said, "but I need to tell your sisters and we need to talk about it."
I looked at the other two and explained, "There is a man who takes care of the grounds around the church. He has 2 little boys, 6 months and 2 years old. Last night they were supposed to be celebrating the 2 year old's birthday. The children's grandma has a disease called Bipolar Disorder where sometimes she is very, very happy, but sometimes she is very, very sad. She was supposed to pick up the children from their daycare and take them home for the birthday party. Instead, she picked them up, drove to a nearby town and shot the children and herself."
My heart broke for those parents. My heart broke for my crying children, who had never dreamed something like that could happen. We talked for a while, I gave them hugs and reassured them that even in an awful thing like this, God has a plan. He loves those parents, the children and the grandmother. I explained even when we can't understand why He allows things to happen, we can trust Him and show His love to others. I assured them that those parents love God and He will hold them up - and our church will walk right beside them.
I gave hugs, listened to prayers and headed downstairs - thanking God for being our shelter during Storms because "Daddy, God, it is scary out there."
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