This past Friday, 27 people were shot and killed in Newtown, Connecticut at a school. 20 of them being children. 1 being the shooter. I thought this was such a terrible tragedy, but when it really hit me hard was when I looked on the news and saw the names of these kids who died, and teachers who died protecting them scroll across the screen. Suddenly each little boy and girl came alive. They became so real. It hit so close to home. My mom always taught me to always call people by name. Always, no if's, and's, or but's, you always call people by name, and each one of those people suddenly, had a name.
My brother Joseph is a very intelligent person. Among other things, he knows film and television like the back of his hand, and when it comes to asking for a valid opinion on such things, he's the first person I would go to. When I was a little girl, I used to hear rumbling's of CSI: New York coming from the other room. As soon as I would walk into the room, the pause button would quickly be pressed as my siblings looked at each other with large eyes wondering how to go about saying that this wasn't a television show that I would be allowed to see. Sometimes I would stay and pretend like I was covering my eyes, but look through the cracks of my fingers, I was very sneaky. With that being said, this wasn't an entirely regular occurrence. Believe me, we had our share of "G" rated films and Anne of Green Gables, which are equally as fulfilling, but there was on occasion times where Prison Break, or 24, or in this case CSI: New York was on and due to my mother's keen sense of judgement, my presence would not be seen at these screenings. Of course they would have happily put on something that both of us could see, but I wanted to see what they were seeing. I wanted to grow up. I wanted to know what the rumbling was about.
As the years passed, and I grew, and the novel idea of me being able to watch more television and movies that weren't so childish with my siblings felt more and more real. Eventually, it became a non-existent worry of mine. Time went on, and my freshman year I moved in with Joseph, his wife Becca, my niece Magdelana, my nephew Johannes, and my other brother Jeremy. This was one of the most delightful years I have ever lived. We had some of the greatest times imaginable, including rituals of a television show each night, one of which being "Lie To Me," a crime show based on the micro-expressions of people. I hadn't thought about CSI: NY in quite sometime, but de ja vu hit me, and I asked Joseph why we never watched that show nowadays. He explained to me something that was very important. He explained to me that in television, there can be a "how" or a "why" and that CSI: NY was a "how."(in much more eloquent terms, of course.)
It occurred to me that "why" questions are much more difficult to answer. Of course, I do find it interesting at what rate the car hit the pole, crushing the victim and not allowing oxygen to the brain, and eventually suffocating. The math, the logic, the numbers. Everything makes sense. Everything adds up. Every question has an answer and every answer a reason to back that answer up. It is when you start asking yourself why. Why? Why did the victim go out that late at night? Why did he not say goodbye? Why did he tell no one where he was going? Why was he alone? At this point you can only guess your best logic. With each question comes another question, and with each answer comes a series more.
Maybe that is why I enjoy crime shows. Because they give answers to all of the "why" questions that go through my head. They make all of these unanswerable questions make sense.
I know what happened in Newtown, Connecticut this past Friday. 27 people died. I can tell you how one man shot and took the lives of 27 people including himself. I can tell you which room he went to first. I can tell you his plan. I can state all of the facts. All of the statistics. I can tell you exactly how this happened. What I cannot tell you is why. Why did he kill 26 people? Why did he not get the help that he needed beforehand? Why did he take it out on children?
The questions are endless
The answers are nonexistent.
Emily Wilkens once came to preach at PAA for a week of prayer. She said, that once you start asking yourself "why" and come up with no answers, you have to ask yourself, "what now?"
I don't want to think of right now, I don't want to take action now, all I seem to want to do is want to think of Charlotte, Daniel, Rachel, Olivia, Josephine, Ana, Dylan, Dawn, Madeleine, Catherine, Chase, Jesse, James, Grace, Anne, Emilie, Jack, Noah, Caroline, Jessica, Avielle, Lauren, Mary, Victoria, Banjamin and Allison, those 26 victims each with a name and how life is too short if you're 100, let alone 6! I don't want to think of right now. I want to go forward, or go back. I am sitting, right here, knowing that I am absolutely incapable of bringing life into those 26 people again. That is all I want to do, that one thing I can't.
"How"does play and important role, though. How can I ask myself "what now?" When I ask that it is the first step toward moving on, toward accepting the facts, and that it even happend. What can I do in my community to make this world a better place? How can I hold my trust in God? How can I show others God? Because there comes a point when there are no answers to the why's or the how's or the what's or the who's, and all that's left is God. There is no explanation. Why would I want to answer these questions, because that just justifies the questions? I don't want "Why did he kill 26 people?" to ever be a normal question. How can I feel sympathy for the shooter who killed these people, and then was selfish enough to kill himself? How is it possible to believe in God, but not love all of his children? I cannot believe in a loving God, without possessing love to even the most un-loveable people.
That's a very hard concept for me.
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Dear God,
Please be with the family's and victims of Newtown.
Help give me understanding, and to remember that this hurts you so much.
Help this world be a better place.
Help me know how to serve you. To not do things for myself, but to bring glory to you.
Help my actions not be my actions, but yours through me.
Help me be more like you.
Thank you, God.
Amen.
please come soon.
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