Rainy with a Chance of Thunderstorms

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I love rain.

 

I flove thunderstorms.

 

As long as I don’t have to be out in them, of course.

This is a screen shot of my hourly weather this morning. It has already changed from 6am when I checked it last. What can I say? Life is a constant change and we must go with the flow.

We had a blissful weekend of rain and no schedule – absolutely unheard of in our household and really, it must be almost the end of the world if we have a weekend like that nestled in the middle of December (only 4 days left!). As I reveled in my agenda-free weekend, I was able to spend time with my kids, my husband, my mom and football. I was also able to spend time on Facebook reading all the tributes, prayers and sad, hopeful, and some downright angry thoughts about the shootings in Connecticut.

There is only so much I can handle when I am faced with violence against children, and by so much, I mean almost none at all. I cannot read books that so much as even hint at it, I cannot watch movies that glorify it even in the name of “awareness,” and I certainly cannot watch hour after hour of reality news conferences about it. I get just the bare amount of information I need and then I look away. The pain that fills my heart as I look at those small faces, faces the exact same age of my son, makes my stomach churn. I spent many an hour in “talks” with God about how I know He knows what I need, but at this moment, I need for Him to comfort those mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers. And by the way, please keep my children safe at the same time. And my husband. And my family. Thankfully, He can do that.

It is no secret that I am Catholic and whatever one may think about that, our priest said some amazing words yesterday. He has friends who’s son was a doctor on the scene at the elementary school. That makes me only three degrees away from the situation and that struck a nerve. When faced with these situations, we are paralyzed with inaction. What can we do? We stop. We feel sick. Our hearts bleed with the atrocity of it all. But, as the hours go by, our lives start again. Our kids need us. Dinners need to be made, clothes washed, agendas signed. My priest said the best thing we can do in the wake of this kind of horror is to call upon God to help and soothe, and we must strive to be the best version of ourselves we can. The best mother, wife, friend, daughter. Christian, Muslim, Jew. Purple with pink polka dots. Whatever. Be the best version: the nicest, the calmest, the most hopeful, the most positive. Speak when it is important to speak out, but be quiet otherwise – don’t voice the negative even when you think you will feel better. You won’t.

It doesn’t feel like much, but in the end, the ripples will reach to the end of the earth.

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About krob3

Wife, mom, swim taxi, singer, writer. This is what I do.
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