I didn’t plan on going home for Christmas this year. After losing someone close, I made other plans in hopes of bypassing the sorrow of an empty ache. But my plans changed, and so did my heart. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this anxious to wrap my arms around my family. My heart hasn’t stopped hurting since Friday, and I imagine it will hurt for a long time still.
I have no familial connection to anyone in Connecticut, but my heart draws me to these people regardless of relation. I left work early Friday and logged off of Twitter and Facebook. I turned off my news alerts and listened to Christmas music as I drove to see friends in Nashville. I escaped my hurt, knowing others couldn’t. I attended parties with friends, co-workers and family all weekend, smiling more and laughing a little deeper. I took intentional breaths as I whispered thanks for all the people in my life.
I prayed throughout the weekend — for the children lost, for the families grieving, for the community that feels hopeless. I prayed for the emergency responders who will forever be changed, for the medical staff, for the grief-stricken community. I prayed for the journalists covering the stories, for family of the shooter and for the clergy trying to comfort so many. I prayed for the president, for the governor and for the mayor. Then, I prayed for Huntsville. And Colorado. And Virginia Tech. And far too many other places. With each prayer, more tears fell.
I don’t have the answers; I don’t even pretend to understand. But I do know God is always good. He is faithful and He is just. He is loving and compassionate, and I know my God was there, with His comforting arms and tender embrace. I know He welcomed each one of those children with arms outstretched. We weren’t ready to let them go, but He was ready to envelop them. What a peace that must’ve been. As much as He loves children, can you imagine the amount of love that moment captured?
My own healing comes through writing; it’s how I share my most personal emotions. I’ve seen many ugly things in my short life. I’ve written scarring stories and interviewed grieving parents. I’ve stared into the face of uncontrollable grief laced with despair and confusion. In those moments, I did my job, often shedding tears as I wrote words to help others understand. Friday, I cried openly and prayed loudly. I was thankful my original Christmas plans fell through because now, I get to spend the holiday with those I hold most dear. Friday, I only wanted to be held and to be reminded God is bigger than all the evil in the world.
My prayers in the coming months will encompass many people from Connecticut and throughout the world. I pray we see goodness this holiday season, that we swallow our pride and say “I love you” when we don’t want to. That we’ll let love cast out fear, and that we’ll apologize quickly and forgive effortlessly. I pray we hold the hands of the ones we love a little longer this Christmas. I pray we’ll each remember this season isn’t about gifts or food or parties, but about the birth of a Savior who died so that we might live, so that those 26 people could live.
I pray we’ll remember we’re in this together, as Ann Voskamp so beautifully wrote:
“Sometimes the only way to stand is together.”