today.

when it happened on friday i couldn't let it in.
i thought if i ignored it, it wouldn't affect me and i could just go on with my life.
i have enough fear of bad things happening to my family. i didn't think i could stand it... to go there. . . to have any more reasons.
not just another tragedy. not just another shooting.
the worst ever.

children.
at christmas.

nope.
no way.
no thank you.
don't need to comprehend that right now.
no details.
no news.
no interest.

til we walked into church yesterday...and started singing.
Christmas carols.
and all i could think of was the pain. the sorrow. the grief. that will never go away. and will haunt them forever, returning at Christmas for the rest of their lives.
unspeakable sorrow.
There was acknowledgement and prayer, and words of comfort for the grieving.
But in contrast, our sermon was on the wise men falling down and worshipping {with exceeding joy} at the feet of Jesus... a small child.
....God clothed in flesh, who had already given up everything to live among men. and would one day be crowned with thorns in mockery, yet rise triumphantly to his rightful throne. one who would relate to us in our suffering, die a human death, in order to beat death, that all who believe might never truly know the darkness of dying.
As we sang both before and after the sermon, I wept for those who were gathering that morning in sorrow, singing perhaps those same lyrics, unable to fathom the hopes and fears of all the years being met in Him now.
As the service closed we were invited to fall to our knees before our King, if we felt led. and i did, seeking forgiveness for hardening my heart to the realities of those who need to be touched by the only One who can comfort them. The once small child, the one who entered our reality, King of the universe, who knows their suffering inside and out.  Who is holding their children now, as they behold the wonder we can only imagine.
I spent the rest of the day in a bit of a stupor, allowing myself to read as much as i could, to take it in, and to look at their faces. I wept at the individual stories, of both spectrums of horror and shock, heroism and relief. Alternately glancing up to watch my own vibrant little ones laughing, playing, and living.  Letting the tears come and go. Snuggling them with purpose, and looking deep into their eyes, re-memorizing their every feature.
And this morning i woke up different. Wanting to be with them, play with them, enjoy what they enjoy.  
We went to the post office, walked along the train tracks and gazed at the big engine and oil cars (for a lot longer than we normally would), did whatever they wanted, got lollipops for each of us, spontaneously went out for lunch (something i've never done with them...ever). I listened to them, laughed at them, watched my tone when correcting them, and consciously lived in the moment. i appreciated them, rather than viewing them as i often subconsciously do: as a given, an appendage, a duty, and in my most selfish moments, an annoyance.
They, along with my husband, are my greatest gifts. They are treasures. They are indispensable, irreplaceable, and they are precious. How easy it is to take them (and this time of their lives) for granted.  How quickly these days will pass, however many there are left, and these moments will be gone forever.
Thank you, Lord, for allowing me to go there, to enter in, even just a tiny bit. That I might taste of another's sorrow, and doing so gain clarity of all the blessings of today.  May your Sovereignty and Love protect my heart from fear and anxiety about tomorrow. And should I wake up then to find my own world turned upside down (or ripped to shreds), may I be able to say that I enjoyed the gift of today while it was still today.