When I sat down to write this column in early September—yes, we work that far ahead—I had every intention of writing something about the blessings of the holiday seasons. Something nice about how at Thanksgiving and Christmas we should revel in the time spent with family and friends. About peace on earth and goodwill toward men. I had even started writing it.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t because I was writing this column one day after two schoolchildren were killed and at least 21 others, most of them students, were injured—while attending Mass at Annunciation Catholic Church in Minneapolis. Nine of the 11 who were critically injured were children aged 6 to 14 years old. So, yes, to write about holiday blessings would seem disingenuous.
That is because for some families, this will not be a time of joy and celebration; it will be a time of sorrow and remembering what they have lost. How do you celebrate Jesus’ birth when you are being dragged down by the reality of death and suffering?
Difficult Reality
Those kids were celebrating the beginning of a new school year—new shoes, new backpacks, and reunions with classmates they hadn’t seen over summer break. Their families now join too many others who have also lived this nightmare. I can picture them singing the hymns, reciting the prayers, lowering themselves on the kneelers. And then I replay in my mind the news video of the student who recalled hearing the shots and ducking under the pew. His friend, who lay on top of him to keep him safe, was shot in the back and injured.
So we add another one of these shootings to what seems to be an ever-growing list. I can’t tell you with accuracy how long that list is, though. I can’t do that because there isn’t one list due to debate about what the parameters of such a list would include or look like. And, honestly, I’d rather not go down the horrors of that rabbit hole to try and find an answer.
There will certainly be plenty of discussions about the issues that may have led up to this tragedy. There already are. I, too, have thoughts on those things, as we all likely do. But those discussions are best left for the editorial pages and comment sections. Right now, I’m just a mom holding in my heart all the moms—and dads and family members—who have had to travel this unimaginable path.
Counting My Blessings
All I can focus on is the pain in those families’ hearts. I can’t help but think about the empty seat at the Thanksgiving table, the Christmas presents that won’t need to be bought, or about how the families of some of the 11 critically injured might be spending their holidays in the hospital.
I am blessed. I will be able to celebrate the holidays with my children. But my celebration will certainly be dimmed by the remembrance that not everyone—such as the families of those two angels in Minnesota and all the victims of school shootings before them—will be able to.
