So, will you tell your children? I think I've fallen in the not camp. For this simple reason: there is nothing I can say to them to reassure them that this won't happen at their own school. We have security; so did they. We have competent first responders and staff and a principal who would in a heartbeat throw themselves in front of a bullet to save a Small; so did they. We have a God who is all over our public school, called there by parents who are trying to follow Jesus and have their kids in public school both; so did they. There is nothing I can say to reassure any of us that we won't someday face this same horrific thing in our school. Chances are nearly nil, but kids don't work in chance and probability; they work in this very small comfort zone of what is happening around them, so if I let them in on it, all they will know is that if some lunatic can shoot his way into an elementary school in Connecticut and murder 27 people, then it can happen here.
So I'm choosing to hold them tightly tonight, while I breathe in the smell of their sweet necks and to thank Father that he's got them. That worry is not part of my job because their future is not part of my job. That when I feel anxiety about what can happen everyday when I send them off to school, I do that in my own strength. And I'm so weak. Because the God who welcomed into his arms those 20 Smalls the instant they gave up their grip on this world will do the same for me and mine. So there is no need to start wearing denim jumpers and becoming a prepper because even though this world scares the socks off me, this is not where my citizenship is. Not mine or my husbands or my children's. Where we are headed is the place where evil is under the foot of the God who spoke the oceans into calm and healed the lepers with a touch. The God who is in the process of speaking calm and healing into all things, a work that will be completed on the day Jesus returns. Come Lord Jesus. Come.
This is me being real. Wondering how you're handling it with your children.