I ambulated out to the kitchen after getting ready for work, when I heard on the radio about a school shooting outside of Cleveland. I immediately thought of my daughter at school two hours already. I know mothers prayed for their kids safety in Chardon, but I quietly thanked God that I pray every day for His hand of protection on Hickory High School as I pull into that driveway in the dark, my hand on Mary Ellen's arm. Protect it from all harm, physical, spiritual and emotional, I pray. The incident happened at 730AM and details were speculation.
My second reaction may be typical or hardened, I'm not sure. Again? I thought. It happens too frequently that it fails to move us like Columbine. Even then, the sting removed some, as my husband pointed out there have been shootings in inner city schools for years and no one seemed to notice or care about those.
Why can't we notice or care? Has life been cheapened? The gangsters have mothers. The troubled youths from privileged homes have mothers. Maybe they don't match up to our middle class standards, but I believe they love their children as much as we do. I'm not saying this right. Any mother who's child is killed loses a chasm in her heart that day that can never be filled. Her child's life is not cheap, I can't believe.
All day as I listened to snippets of news between visits, my prayers lifted up this whole community, especially the mothers. I pray for the gunman and the family. Then the announcement one teen died. We don't know the whole story, but we can feel the hole story.