Where to Begin

A new journey, a new blog. You know, I blogged for a long time over at xanga, long before my whole family was on facebook and we could keep up with each other’s movements and pictures and funny moments. I kind of felt like maybe beginning again would be helpful.
You see, I’m in turmoil over here, I’m having to stick my head in the sand just to get through the day today. 
Have you seen the news? Do you know what happened?
I imagine the things I can’t see when I hear a story. The things I imagine are sometimes actually worse than reality, but in this situation I bet my imagination is on the mark. 
I can’t bear what I see and what I hear. I wonder what kind of person that makes me, that in the face of the suffering of others I turn my head, I close my ears, I change the channel. If I am at capacity where are they? If I am grieving people I don’t know what about the people who have lost their homes and their children in one fell swoop, one angry wind?
There is a picture out of a little girl with blond hair. Her hair is in a pony tail and she looks the same size as Kaia, that is to say, a little taller than your average third grader. She is in a man’s arms with her face tucked into his neck. 
There is a picture in my mind of my own little bit, all excited and ready for kindergarten, and how scared she would be to be buried in the dark. How much it would hurt to know that my arms can’t reach her. 
I just don’t know how to keep watching, I don’t know how to keep thinking about it, to keep hoping for more dazed little kids to come walking away from the debris of their school when there is only one wall standing and it is still hung with backpacks. I don’t know how to imagine the fear as that mighty locomotive noise got louder and louder, how to feel for the teachers who stayed with those students until the walls came down.
I just don’t know. I can’t bear it. 
So if it makes me a bad person, I’m sorry, but I can’t watch anymore. I can’t hear anymore. I can’t imagine anymore. 
I will instead pay tribute to those lost by loving my family and my neighbors. By hugging my kids. By hanging up their backpacks when they come home today and giving them a snack, by trying to be patient when they bicker and whine. By remembering that in a moment they could be lost to me. By remembering that my time with them as children is fleeting, it will only last a while; and being their mother is the luckiest gig there is. 
I will hug my new friend who is a teacher when I see her tonight. 
I will pray. I will sing hopeful hymns as anthems of prayer. Come thou font of every blessing, tune my heart to sing thy praise, streams of mercy, never ceasing…
Maybe a new beginning will help, a cathartic, if self-indulgent, first post, a way to stream the anger and the wonder and the hurt into something that moves it away from my heart, pouring water off noodles, slurping foam off beer, taking the lid off a boiling pot. 
Maybe.

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