Saturday, July 21, 2012

Grateful and Blessed





I held myself together pretty well yesterday.  Got up, went to work, listen and read the news, grieved about those lost in Colorado.  I texted a few friends who live in or near Aurora to make sure they were okay (they were) and then I stuffed down all the panic and fear that had been threatening to bubble up and over because I hadn't laid eyes on my boys since night before last.  Before they went to the midnight showing of Batman and returned home to me...safe and sound.  Thank you God.

When I got home yesterday, none of my boys were there.  One was babysitting for a friend and one had gone out to help a friend.  So I made chit chat with the hubs until he began talking a little too much about the shootings.  I finally told him to please just shut up about it - I couldn't listen to it anymore.  I texted the son who was babysitting to ask when he would be home.  About 10:30 pm.  Four hours.

And then the other one walked through the doors and I put my arms around him and just lost it.  All my fear and grief and gratefulness just came pouring out onto his t-shirt.  He kept asking what was wrong and when I couldn't answer he just held me (his father taught him well).  When I could finally speak and I told him he "sort of" chuckled which told me he was feeling blessed as well.  Any other time he would have been laughing and teasing me for crying.  This time he just hugged me again.

And then we got in the car and drove to the house where the other one was babysitting and I did it all over again.  He didn't laugh or tease me either.

Lord thank you for bringing them home safely to me.  Wrap your arms around the grieving community of Aurora and give them comfort.

Om shanti shanti shanti

2 comments:

  1. I don't have kids in that area, or at home anymore, but I relate to your feelings. After 911, I lived in Michigan, my mother lives in Texas. I remember I wanted to hug her so bad, and tell her I loved her.

    These incidents remind us to show our love NOW, not later.

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