This is post is long, but bear with me.
I spent yesterday pulling my fabric out of deep storage, sorting, cleaning, and putting things away, while playing my collection Christmas albums on my stereo. Sequestered away, I didn't hear the horrifying news about the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary until 10pm, when I finally turned on the television. I ran downstairs to tell my husband, who had known since late morning. Joe's a teacher, and the faculty had been notified as soon as the news broke. Joe hadn't told me, out of kindness, because he wanted me to not know as long as possible. I have two littles in the local elementary school. I have a husband who is a teacher, who I know would do whatever he could to keep others safe. Joe was sheltering me from the sorrow and the fear.
There really aren't adequate words to express my sympathy, or my feelings. There aren't any words that really feel like enough. There isn't any action or gesture that feels sufficient.
Like the rest of the world, I find tears coming, off and on, thinking about those littles, their teachers, their families, and friends. I feel guilty, but I am also so very grateful that by the grace of God, my littles and my husband, a teacher, are safe.
We are mostly pretty powerless to "fix" this, to make this better, to solve this, to take away the hurt and the loss. At first, I was hesitant to post about this tragedy. I hate that "me, too" kind of posting on social media. But, there was this quote from the writings of Henri Nouwen that came to mind. I have found his words a comfort, both in my own time of loss, and when friends have experienced loss. It has to do with the value of our powerless in the face of loss:
The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing... not healing, not curing... that is a friend who cares.
As I have been reflecting on Nouwen's words, and the light and prayers I am sending up, I started thinking about light. The holidays are upon us. Tonight, those celebrating Hannukah, will light the eighth candle in their menorahs. Tomorrow, for those celebrating Christmas, is the third Sunday of Advent and three candles will be lit in the Advent wreath. Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year is five days away, marking the return of the light, when nights grow shorter, and days grow longer, taking us into the warmth of summer.
We are celebrating miracles- miracles of light.
Every year on Christmas Eve, as part of my holiday celebrations, I line my steps and front walk with luminarias. I think of it as a way to welcome the spirit of Christmas into my home.
This year, instead of luminarias, I plan to use twenty-eight sanctuary candles (the ones in the tall, slender, glass jars) to line my path. One candle for each of those lives that ended yesterday. I realized I cannot fix this immense loss, but I can stay in silence and in light with those grieving.
I am inviting you to join me.
Martin Luther King, Jr. said, Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.
Edith Wharton said, There are two ways of spreading light, to be the candle, or the mirror that relects it.
On one of the holiest nights of the year, a night all about love, I am asking you to join me in being the candle, to reflect the Light into the world, to drive out the Darkness and Hate.
We will stay in silence with those grieving, not knowing how to make it better; we will simply show we care.
There is no place to sign up for this. Simply place your candles or luminarias out on Christmas Eve. Whether you put out twenty-eight candles, twenty-seven candles, or only one candle, it doesn't matter. You are sharing light. Feel free to photograph your lights; if you want share it on FB at http://www.facebook.com/bealightinthedarkness, or instagram tagged with #bealightinthedarkness
I must confess my mama-heart balked at the idea of twenty eight candles, but my soul reminded me the killer's family has two sorrows to mourn, and a great burden of shame to bear.
Please, share this post with others; maybe they also feel powerless in the wake of this tragedy, and would want to participate.
