Have a Little Faith

Twas' 11 days before Christmas, around 9:38 when 20 beautiful children stormed through heaven's gate. Their smiles were contagious, their laughter filled the air. They could hardly believe all the beauty they saw there. They were filled with such joy; they didn't know what to say. They remembered nothing of what had happened earlier that day. “where are we?" asked a little girl, as quiet as a mouse. “This is heaven" declared a small boy. "We’re spending Christmas at God's house”. When what to their wondering eyes did appear, but Jesus, their savior, the children gathered near. He looked at them and smiled, and they smiled just the same. Then He opened His arms and He called them by name. And in that moment was joy, that only heaven can bring those children all flew into the arms of their King and as they lingered in the warmth of His embrace, one small girl turned and looked at Jesus' face. And as if He could read all the questions she had He gently whispered to her, "I'll take care of mom and dad. “then He looked down on earth, the world far below He saw all of the hurt, the sorrow, and woe, then He closed His eyes and He outstretched His hand, “Let My power and presence re-enter this land! “May this country be delivered from the hands of fools” “I’m taking back my nation. I'm taking back my schools! “Then He and the children stood up without a sound. “Come now my children let me show you around. “Excitement filled the space, some skipped and some ran. All displaying enthusiasm that only a small child can. And I heard Him proclaim as He walked out of sight, “in the midst of this darkness,” I AM STILL THE LIGHT."

~Author unknown

I was raised a Christian. I think that is what got me through the darkest times in my young life. But, in my adult years I have found myself, not straying from Christianity, but being less involved and apparently developing a skewed sense of what being a Christian means. After my sister passed away I found myself praying to God to bring her back, praying that I'd get to see her again, praying that she'd come see me, even in the afterlife. I was praying for all the wrong things. It dawned on me that I was wishing, and not praying...there's a big difference. 

As I watched the news last week after the Clackamas Town Center shooting I felt so bad for not only the victims of the gunshots, but the victims who witnessed these things, and experienced such emotional trauma. My heart ached for the people whose lives were lost, but I found my tears flowing faster at the exhaustive descriptions that were being given in interviews by the people who survived the shootings. It was then that I realized that I had no idea what I was supposed to pray for. For the survivors? Sure. For the ones who died? Of course. For the shooter? I didn't know. 

And, then, just 3 days after the mall shooting, as if the emotional toll couldn't get worse, we hear of one of the most devastating massacres in US history. A gunman forced his way into a rural elementary school with the intent of committing a crime unlike anyone could imagine - He shot 20 beautiful young children, and 8 adults, including his own mother. WHY?!! Why would someone allow such a thing to happen? How could he do this? WHY did God allow this to happen??? What could make someone so angry or upset that he would go out of his way to enter the school to do this to so many people? I cried. And I cried and cried and cried. Those beautiful young children and those brave teachers gone in an instant at the hands of a mad man...or child, depending on your opinion. 

In times like these I question what I am supposed to do, and what is real. I question the purpose of our lives and the meaning behind religion. What do I pray for if things like these can't be prevented? Why should I pray if nothing changes and losses are so great that we can't find purpose to live? I honestly asked myself these questions last Friday, and I was surprised to find that I was answering my own question without even thinking about it. 

Since the school massacre, I've been praying...almost non-stop. I pray every time my children walk out the door. I pray every time my husband leaves the house. I pray at night. I pray during the day. It's not that I'm putting an extra effort in to praying. I just am. I catch myself saying a prayer that God keeps them safe during the day. I pray that he gives them courage to do what's best should they be subject to such cruelty. I pray that the teachers and the school staff are never put in a position as the teachers at Sandy Hook Elementary were. I pray that God finds a way to help these ill minded souls so that there isn't another attempt at making the history books. I pray for the madness to stop. I can't express enough how much i dislike having to worry about my children going to school, or to the mall or to the movies. It's awful that we adults have to bear such a burden of worry. It's not fair that we've had to develop this sense of fear for wherever our children are and whatever they're doing and with whom. Nothing's changed, yet, everything's changed. 

Tomorrow, according to the Mayan calendar, is suppose to be the end of the world as we know it. I don't believe it. But, there are many that do. I think that may have something to do with the recent ill fated events in our country. 

So, to answer my own questions: I don't know why people do such things. I don't know why people don't get the help they need to fight off the demons in their mind. I don't know why horrors like this happen. But I do know now that, no matter what happens, a little faith can heal the wounds, and a little prayer never hurt anyone. So, I pray.........