"So when days grows dark and cold..."

"So when day grows dark and cold,
Tear or triumph harms,
Lead Thy lambkins to the fold,
Take them in Thine arms…"
- Mary Baker Eddy

For me, yesterday's tragic incident at Virginia Tech brought back so many memories of those weeks following the Columbine High School shootings when I joined hundreds of other spiritual, health care and social service professionals in providing counseling to students, faculty, administrators and their families. 

However much I long to be there to help lift the heavy mantle of sorrow from the shoulders of those whose lives were touched by yesterday's brutal rampage, this time I don't live just 45 miles away.  I can't grab my Bible and Science and Health and hop in my Jeep and within an hour be sitting with parents and students, teachers and administrators holding hands, offering support or just listening to them tell stories about loved ones they feared were in danger.  I can't sit in the middle of this community whose peace was shattered by the sound of gunfire and speak directly…face to face…of God's tender care for their loved one.  The sons and daughters who may never again come home for Thanksgiving dinner, the ones who may be in surgery, or the ones who feel traumatized by sights and sounds they never imagined experiencing when they received their acceptance letter to Virginia Tech.   But… I can begin the same way I began that journey towards Columbine High School in mid-April of 1999…I can pray.  And from the summit of prayer I have a new perspective… I can reclaim the undeniable and certain spiritual peace I found during those weeks of providing care and counseling in the wake of the tragic shootings at Columbine High.

I have already recounted some of the lessons I learned during that time of rigorous spiritual caregiving in "A Peace that Can't be Shattered by Gunmen or Fear" and "Love, not Terror, is Contagious"…but today my thoughts and prayers are with the mothers, fathers, sisters, uncles, grandparents of Virginia Tech students.  Family member and friends who may have spent yesterday afternoon and last night wondering if their loved ones were safe, wondering if they would ever feel peace again, wondering if it could happen again.  The same suggestions of doubt and fear that many of us today may be wrestling with in the wake of such tragic news… accompanied by a never-ending stream of sound bytes and images we probably wish we could hit a delete button and erase forever.

But these feelings of horror, doubt, fear, helplessness, and hopelessness cannot steal from us our right to feel God's presence every moment…even when the sights and sounds of gunfire wrack our being, we can focus on the images of fellow students rising to help a friend, or a police officer carrying a wounded student from a classroom. These instances of kindness, grace and courage are our "faint morning beams" of God's presence in the midst of darkness.   We can still our wondering…our uncertainty, doubt and all the "what if"s of fear…with a spiritual knowing that is often not reinforced by the images being presented, but as powerful as the wind we cannot see yet still bends the tree to its will.

I recently had an experience one rainy Saturday afternoon that left me shaky with dread.  I had been quietly praying for myself and others, when suddenly I had the sensation of being violently slammed into something or having something slam into me.  This was arresting.  I had been so thoroughly immersed in that peaceful place of conscious communion with the divine that the abruptness of the sensation sent me reeling.  I immediately shook myself free of it, claiming that I was conscious, and that I could only be conscious of good.  Then I closed my eyes and returned to a meditative state. 

Within a very short time I was completely at peace again, fully engaged in listening for divine direction and watching for each glimpse of the spiritual nature of all "things" from a God-sourced perspective.  I was awake and aware of my surroundings--although my eyes were closed--when I felt someone come and sit on the edge of the sofa next to me. 

I have had enough experiences with things that seem unexplainable that I am rarely surprised.  I knew that I was alone in the house and that no one had unlocked, opened or closed our very noisy doors.  So I just stayed still and let "it" be there with me and share the space in consciousness that was so filled with peace and inspiration.  Within a few minutes I felt the weight against me shift away.  I felt the sofa cushion return to its natural shape and it was as if someone had walked out of the room.  At first I sat there celebrating life…affirming the all-presence of God as life…indistinguishable and eternal. 

And then it hit me square in the middle of my forehead.  Hannah!

My daughter, as many readers will know, is living in South Africa.  I then remembered that she was on holiday with friends during her spring break, camping in a remote area.  Suddenly my thoughts were in turmoil.  Had she been in an accident?   Had she been injured, mugged, or even mauled by lions (don't laugh…they were camping in the middle of South Africa)?  I wondered what it meant that I had felt a violent intrusion on my prayers and then felt the presence of someone.  I had had one too many experiences where a friend or a pet, when leaving this experience through "death," had spent a moment or more in transition with me, or with someone I knew,  before fully moving on.

But this was not a peaceful thought that Saturday.  In fact, it sent me into a tailspin.  I called my husband and I was grateful that he didn't scoff at my concern.  He reminded me to pray, offered to pray with me, and suggested that I call my daughter's birthmother (whom she is living with during her time abroad) to check in.  I was in the perfect state of reception for any wise and calm counsel.  Okay, I was desperate.  I hung up the phone, closed my eyes, and returned to that space of prayer that always gives birth to deep spiritual peace.  I was flooded with images of Hannah as a fearless child at play "popping up" after a horrible fall only to giggle and try some alarming highwire act again with perfect confidence.  Or Hannah, coming back from a day on the river at camp with her usual buoyant smile and reply to my question, "How was the river?" with an off-handed, "Oh, fine."  Only to find out later that she had been wedged between two boulders in a "hole" in the river and had to be rescued by a senior counselor when her efforts to free herself had failed and she had actually been quite frightened. (Kim, if you read this could you explain what a "hole" is?)

A parade of healings that I had witnessed with Hannah swept over me like a cool stream and I was washed clean of the frantic terror that seemed to have me in its grip.  But as I walked through the next hours of my day, concern continued to poke at the borders of my heart.  I would stop and pray…again and again…until I found peace.  Finally I felt that I could call her birthmom, my friend, without betraying any concern.  I reached her on the first try (not an easy feat from here to there) and she sounded relaxed and happy.  Whew.  So I asked if I could talk to Hannah.  My alarm meter went right back up into the red zone when she said, "No, they won't be back until tomorrow."  I chatted for a few moments more before hanging up the phone and I returned to that silent place of prayer.  I prayed all evening and through the night.  With the dawn I felt a complete peace…invulnerable and grounded.

At some point in the night my prayers had taken a turn.  I went from praying for Hannah to embracing all children "abroad", all children on spring break, the concerned parents of children on spring break and abroad...and finally to a solid place of seeing that it really wasn't about what I knew to be true about Hannah (as wonderful as she is to me, her over-adoring mom) or children on spring break…or their parents.

My prayer came down to…what did I know to be true about God?  Did I really know God to be all-powerful Love?  Did I trust Him to care for His children?  Or did I just pay lip service to a spiritual philosophy about Him…and always because of what had happened to us…me, my children, my community, my world, my humanity?

I realized that if Hannah had come to "visit" on her way forward in her life's journey, I could be grateful that God had given her the wisdom to understand that I might need to know, and feel that she was at peace.  If it was just her way (and His) of asking me to prayerfully support her in a moment of extreme need…well, thank you God for giving me the opportunity to celebrate with her the constancy of Your love…and the ONLY source of love…ever.

The next day I called South Africa and Hannah was back home and tired from a busy camping trip…and she would tell me all about it later. 

When she did I was not alarmed.  She began by saying, "Don't be concerned, Mom…I was alright, but…"    It was that "but"…that got me.  She went on to share that during her camping trip she had decided to take a flying leap off a very, very high cliff into a body of water.  Because of the height and the air currents, she missed her mark and had slammed into a rock.  A friend had come to help her and she had come away from the experience not only unharmed, but had returned to the cliff's edge to try it again…correcting her trajectory.  That kid!

Each parent, sister, brother, friend…today, tomorrow, next week…who spent time wondering (or is still wondering) about the safety of a loved one at Virginia Tech…or in Darfur…has really just been engaged (with God) in cherishing someone….their spiritual identity, the love they inspire and the space of good they represent in the universe.  In celebrating the certainty of God's wonder-ful loving care for His creation.  .

Thank you God for putting your love (not fear) in our hearts as we consider our children…the world's children.  Every parent and child is living, right now, in the warm embrace of that love.  Nothing can convince us that we are afraid…because we love our children so much.

As John says, "There is no fear in love…"

We either love them…or we are afraid…they don't mix any more than light and darkness can coincide.  As a parent, I choose love.  I have the right to reclaim this icky feeling in my gut.  I'll be darned if I will let anything tell me that I am afraid.  I am deciding that this feeling is and can only be, my overwhelming, unsettling in its magnitude,  love for humanity, my family…for Hannah.  I am NOT afraid… because I love.

Let's take the weapons of fear out of the hand of the "enemy" (whatever would say that God is not all-powerful and loving presence in our lives at all times and in all circumstances) and choose to be honor Him as His sons and daughters…and love, love, love…

Let's love the families and friends of students, teachers and administrators at Virginia Tech and around the world…let's shower them with our prayers of love…and with the way those prayers lead us to act…and by this loving honor the lives of those they love.  God will shepherd us all through these days, that seem so dark and cold, with His tender care…

We need not wonder…

"…Feed the hungry
Heal the heart
Till the morning's beam;
White as wool,
Ere they depart,
Shepherd, wash them clean."
- Mary Baker Eddy

with Love,
Kate