by Kristina Cox

Created on: April 18, 2007   Last Updated: April 19, 2007

This morning I read a forward that someone sent me containing a slideshow of American soldiers at war Iraq. At first, it was just asking to support them (which I do, just not the war). The second part, though, showed caskets and family members with folded flags. I couldn't help but cry. I didn't cry just because of the extreme loss of life and innocence. I cried b/c I brought two children into this world filled with violence, hatred, injustice, intolerance, sadness, hunger-just plain hellish conditions. I felt considerable guilt and extreme helplessness.

The next day, I watched as a campus and town lost their innocence as 33 of their students and faculty were shot to death by one of their own. A reason was hard to find. The shooter was silent, cold, filled with anger and hate. I was motionless while watching the coverage. I was sad, but I was numb from the horrid tales of heroic teachers and frantic students. I was overwhelmed when I thought of the parents of these students.

How can I provide a life for my children filled with pretty things and happiness when all around them there is this complete disregard for life? How can I teach them that we should care about everyone, even the bad people, when most in this world don't care about anyone but themselves? I could hardly explain to my soon to be three year old when, just the other day, a child was terrorizing him at the park. No one's ever been mean to him. The truth is, I couldn't explain it to myself, either.

I was relieved when, while feeling sorry for myself, I heard my two little ones laughing and hugging under the high chair, their version of a clubhouse. My son was singing to his little sister, my one year old. She was nodding along and swaying. He was happy to sing and entertain her, and she was happy to listen and dance along. They routinely complement each other in this way, this simple childish way of just getting along with someone, just being together. They are in their own world, oblivious to everything outside of our apartment's deadbolted door. They are happy, they are safe, and I know that right now, they love everyone and everything. They know nothing of evil.

I turned to the television where the camera's point of view showed darkness, then little twinkling lights from thousands of hopeful students, parents and faculty at Virginia Tech. They were sad, but they sang with each other, hugged each other and comforted each other. They came together to be with each other, just for the sake of being with each other. Their world had been shattered, but it was slowly repairing by standing together and hoping for the future.

So right now, I will tell myself to remember these moments when I feel frustrated about the world. I am only in charge of MY world. I can make a difference in this small area and hopefully, by my example, my babies will go out into the world and show others the same kindness. I'm not fooling myself by thinking that I will do this all of the time. I, too, am intolerant at points. I, too, hate at times. But I have two little reminders of forgiveness and love to keep me honest.

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