The weight of the world
Thursday, July 14, 2011 at 09:56AM It only takes one. One little snippet of news, that strikes me in a particular way, and my insides start turning around in messy circles. I can feel my shield of trust start to crack, that blessed thing that keeps me going despite fears and worries and what-if’s. I’m actually not much of a worrier, but I do keep that assumption that everything will be just fine wrapped around me like a favorite quilt. Then something pierces my armor, that soft and gentle armor, and my eyes are opened for awhile to the pain all around me. The weight of the world.
This week, I first heard of the disappearance of a local 8-year-old boy via FB on Monday. His parents had given in to his pleading to walk the 7 blocks home alone from daycamp, practiced it with him on Friday, and Monday afternoon he did so for the first time. Except he never met his mom on the corner as they’d arranged. A massive hunt commenced almost immediately, but in less than 24 hours their worst fears were proved true: he’d been brutally murdered by a local man whom he’d asked for directions.
I can’t begin to imagine the pain, fear, guilt, and horror of those parents and the community at large. I feel it especially keenly because they live so close to me, my son is 9 and walks a few blocks alone at times, and is currently at camp himself. I know what it is to fear and send anyway. To know your child, to set them free, and pray that no harm comes. To know in your heart that you cannot possibly protect them from everything, you can only prepare. Prepare them to make good decisions, to recognize signs, to gauge character, to weigh risks, and to know their limits. Just like my parents did for me. I simply can’t process this family’s pain, but it’s cloaking me today instead of my old quilt of trust.
Sometimes horrific stories land on me like so many raindrops, wetting my quilt but leaving my soul intact. I do care, and I do feel, but it doesn’t make my hair stand on end and my heart stop. Other times, like this week, it gets me to my core and I can’t shake it for many a day. I’m pierced. I watch, feel, pray, hurt, and hold my family a little closer.
Once in a long while, I get this vague sense of the deepest and most achingly huge sadness I’ve ever felt. It washes into every atom in my body, opens my heart, and silently sits there. There are no words, no specific thoughts, no weights, just an endless lake of sorrow. I wonder at it, feel it, and assume I’ve gotten a wee glimpse into the heart of God, the weight of the world, and the sum of humanity. It slips away after a day or two, leaving me thankful, relieved, and slightly more aware of the preciousness and capriciousness of life.
in the news, musings
Reader Comments (5)
I thought of you when I read about him. That was too close to home, glad they caught the guy but wish it never happened. Anywhere. Ever.
It was so random and so wrong and over so quickly. Coincidentally my purloined copy of People magazine is all about Jaycee Duggard's story so it feels like it's all around me. And you, 'cause we're right here.
This story hit me hard too. I just moved from an Orthodox Jewish neighborhood in LA and there are always lots of kids walking in the area. I think there's a feeing of safety in the greater Orthodox community in LA even though I worry for the kids because the area is surrounded by very big, busy streets. When I'd ask my Orthodox neighbors about the safety issue, they said they felt their own community would protect their kids. Obviously, not in this case. So sad.
It's sad, but kids aren't safe alone, period. I know we all want them to be self confident, independent and happy, but as parents we have to be responsible for their safety. Chances are that had that boy been with at least one other child, he'd still be alive. It's a hard reality but it's just that.
Bethany, I so relate to what you are saying about how sometimes certain horrific stories just get to you. Recently I have gone on a news Sabbatical where I try to strictly limit the stories I read or listen to about crimes.
Of course if an incident happens in our neighborhood, then the burying my head in the sand approach is obviously not appropriate.
I think it's so shocking how we can go along with our lives and have everything be "fine" until one day when it is not.
Also in this particular case it seems that the odds against this happening were pretty astronomical. (I guess I'm disagreeing a bit with the previous comment) Millions of kids walk home a few blocks with no problem at all. Most kids are hurt by people they know, not strangers.
It's so tricky for us parents to live in a world that is filled with awfulness and to figure out what we want to share about that with our kids, and when. Sharing the wonderfulness of the world comes pretty easy, right? My kids are 13 and 10, we live in a city, and there's a lot for me to consider about what I want to say about the kinds of people and situations they might encounter as they gain more freedom.
Thanks for this thoughtful post.