Sunday, December 16, 2012

Not Yet


I can’t write about running.
And I can’t write about nutrition.
Not today anyway.  Not yet.  
In fact, I am late with my article.  But it seems every time I have sat down at my proverbial typewriter to write my next running or nutrition article, my heart aches.  As much as I want to move on, write a thoughtful musing about running, it just feels wrong.   
So instead, I thought I would share the advise I gave my children this morning as I sent them off to school.  I may catch some flack for this, but I may also help someone.  So, the potential to help (to me) outweighed any flack I might receive… so I will share.
Over the weekend, I did talk with my children about the horror in Connecticut, my home state.  The act is so bad, the outcome so crammed with grief, I don't seem to be able to type it.  Unspeakable. 
And then, this morning, before sending them off to school with only the horror and fear and uncertainty feelings, and nothing else, I wanted to give them something else.  I wanted to at least give them steps they could take.  Oftentimes, we feel a tad better if there are hints of action plans.  I wanted them to feel they could do something (even if they could not, we just don't know).  I assured them it is highly unlikely.  However, you do want a plan.  To them, I said:
  1. Escape.  I don’t care if you jump out a window to get away. Jump out the window (their schools are not 10 story buildings).  A gunman can’t get you if you are not there.  Run like the wind.
  2. Hide.  Only if you can’t get away.  And I don’t mean under a desk.  It’s not make-believe; and I can still see you when you are under a desk.  Get a real hiding place in your head and make note of it.
  3. Fight.  Sigh.  I struggle with this as it goes against all my instincts and values.  And so I skimmed over it quickly in our conversation.  Only if the first two are totally out of the question.  And I mean zero other options.  And if you have to fight, don’t play fair.  It’s not a boxing match where points are scored.  Fight dirty. 
My youngest son told me I made him scared.  That’s really not what a mother ever wants to do.  To frighten their child.  But today, I told him I loved him too much to not scare him.  Ugh. 
May we never encountered the atrocities the children, teachers, families in Newtown had to.  And if you get a moment, send a loving thought or prayer to the broken families.
Usually, I end my article happily, telling you to come follow me at my website, etc.  But today, I will only ask that if any of this article spoke to you, please share it, forward it along, do something so that it may be useful to another soul.  With love. 

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