This is the second time in my 51 weeks of blogging that I’ve had to really think about if/what/how/why I should post today. Like the rest of our country and much of the world, my heart is heavy. There is the weight of the senselessness of a terrorist attack. There is the fear of the environment in that I’m raising two beautiful little boys. It’s a screaming reminder that no matter how hard I try not to mess this motherhood thing up, there are so many other ways that my boys can get hurt. But mostly, there is the empathy for all those in Boston whose life just changed in a matter of a second.
I’m not going to dilute either of the experiences by comparing them, however, I will say that ever since Owen was born, I’ve become acutely aware of the “rest of the story” whenever I see a tragedy in the news. The gravity of the lasting impacts of those panicked moments are what I can’t get out of my mind. I know that when the cameras turn to the next newsworthy story, families will still be in the hospital. And when they do go home, there are still days, weeks, months, years and lifetimes of impact. I know that when the physical scars heal, the pain will still be there and I know that it’s whole families and communities impacted, not just individual victims.
So yes, my heart is heavy for our world and country and for the families and individuals in
Boston today. And I’m going to let it be heavy … the victims and their loved ones deserve that respect.
At the same time, I’m not going to give up hope for my children’s future. I can’t do that, because they are reminders that there is still so much good in the world. As if they knew I needed that reminder, they gave me the most beautiful moment yesterday.
The boys were playing together. It’s a variety of peek-a-boo where Owen hides behind a chair and then pokes his head around at Kellen, but then he also will poke him in the face or chest and then scurry to get back behind chair before Kellen can get him back. Eventually, Kellen will turn around and get Owen from over the top of the chair and they both squeal and laugh. After Kellen got him tonight and Owen was laughing with snorts, Kellen’s voice suddenly got very heartfelt and he rubbed Owen’s head and said,
Owey, I love you. [pause] So much.
It’s exactly what I needed to hear to know that mourning the lives lost and forever changed from the bombings in Boston is appropriate and so is not giving up hope for the future of the world. There is still a lot of good.
© Copyright Tatum, All rights Reserved. Written For: Ain't No Roller Coaster