Like the rest of the nation, I am heart broken. 20 children are gone.
Words are hard to find.
I have no children of my own, but every child that walks into my yoga class leaves a footprint on my heart. And at a time like this, I think of each and every one of them. What are they thinking? Have their eyes and ears wandered over to the news of this tragedy? Are their parents talking to them about this? Are they afraid to go to school? It hasn't yet, but I find myself searching for words and preparing myself for when one of my students brings it up on the mat. I have the need to instill hope in our children's view of humanity and the things that happen in this world. Mr. Roger's mother taught him well...for every bad person that does something, look at all the good people that rush in to help, that come to the rescue, that support in times of need. It doesn't take away the pain of lives lost or the velocity of what has happened, but I like to think it brings a little bit of hope.
I've been sending prayers to the children - I get nauseous at the thought of what was the last scene their little eyes saw. I've been sending prayers to the families - I can not even fathom what it must be like to bury a child. I've been sending prayers to the teachers who risked their lives - especially 27-year-old teacher Victoria Soto, who in an act of selflessness, was killed while shielding her first-graders from danger. I've been sending prayers to the entire devastated community of
Who I haven't sent prayers to was Adam Lanza until today...
I urge you to read this posting: I am Adam Lanza's Mother
Take a moment to look through the eyes of a mother raising a violent child with a mental illness. I condone her for sharing her story and taking the necessary precautions to keep her child and those around her safe.
On the intake form, under the question, "What are your expectations for treatment?" I wrote, "I need help."And I do. This problem is too big for me to handle on my own. Sometimes there are no good options. So you just pray for grace and trust that in hindsight, it will all make sense. I am sharing this story because I am Adam Lanza's mother. I am Dylan Klebold's and Eric Harris's mother. I am Jason Holmes's mother. I am Jared Loughner's mother. I am Seung-Hui Cho's mother. And these boys—and their mothers—need help. In the wake of another horrific national tragedy, it's easy to talk about guns. But it's time to talk about mental illness.