I know I have been pretty quiet on the blog recently. At a time when I should be posting about Santa, what Mae wants for Christmas, fun holiday events, and visions of gum drops, I can't. The shooting in Newton, CT has left me sadden, confused, shaken, and heartbroken for all the victims and families who have faced the unimaginable. "Peace on Earth, Good Will To Men" has kind of felt, to be totally honest with you, like NOT.
The only thing that I can grasp to is the idea that there is STILL hope, love, and giving in this ugly and troubled world. So, I have thrown myself into trying to give to others as much as possible. This past weekend I have spent quite a bit of time at the family shelter in my neighborhood that I have volunteered at for the last six months. I put up a Christmas tree, sang carols with folks, decorated Christmas cookies, spent the night, broke bread, and listened to them and their lives. By giving of myself to others, I can only hope that I can change this tilt of evil and ugliness that has happened to a season of hope, giving, and love. I know my act is very small but it is all that I know to do.
Like every other parent, I have also squeezed my kids a little tighter, stared at their faces for hours so I don't forget a single thing, and relished every word (or lack thereof in Whit's case) they have said.
The only thing that I can grasp to is the idea that there is STILL hope, love, and giving in this ugly and troubled world. So, I have thrown myself into trying to give to others as much as possible. This past weekend I have spent quite a bit of time at the family shelter in my neighborhood that I have volunteered at for the last six months. I put up a Christmas tree, sang carols with folks, decorated Christmas cookies, spent the night, broke bread, and listened to them and their lives. By giving of myself to others, I can only hope that I can change this tilt of evil and ugliness that has happened to a season of hope, giving, and love. I know my act is very small but it is all that I know to do.
Like every other parent, I have also squeezed my kids a little tighter, stared at their faces for hours so I don't forget a single thing, and relished every word (or lack thereof in Whit's case) they have said.
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