If you’re looking for a blog post that will help you defend your political view or add fodder to your discussions on gun control (or the lack thereof), you won’t find it here. If you’re hoping that I will insert pointed remarks to parents or to school officials or imply that evil is the result of social media or abuse of technology, you’ll want to find another blogger to read. That will not be the point of this post.
You see, this morning my husband and I were about to leave the house to head for Hobby Lobby in nearby Noblesville, Indiana, when we received notifications from our “Breaking News” apps that told us about a school shooting in Noblesville. Yes, we were saddened; yes, we were curious about the details; but we were, for all practical purposes, unaffected. Our grandchildren live out of state, and though we knew the situation at the local school was horrendous, we were not directly impacted by it. After all, we had shopping to do…at my “happy place!”
As we drove on I-69 toward our exit for Noblesville, it seemed that out of nowhere there appeared a police car behind us, causing us to pull over (as all good drivers should do) and allow it to pass. However, the impact of the nearby “active shooter” situation became more real with each law enforcement vehicle that passed us. There were many. Each silently (yet with its lights on), urgently headed toward Noblesville Middle School (the site of the shooting) and/or Noblesville High School (where students were sent by bus to be out of harm’s way and to reunite with their family members once all students were accounted for).
As Joe drove, I tuned in to the live coverage via WTHR’s live Facebook feed. It was there that we learned that law enforcement from all around Central Indiana was converging on the schools, offering assistance and reaching out to their brothers and sisters in blue to help in whatever way was needed. It was powerful to hear. It was overwhelming to see. Tears were the result. And they began to flow freely.
The impact and its reality grew with each passing police car. I began to think of the mother, the father, the grandparent, the sibling who heard this on the news, got a text message, or received a phone call. I thought of the teachers, the school officials, hoping and praying that their “drills” had been effective.
And I thought about the students. As the final flashing lights of the final car in the long line of cars passed us, I thought only about the students.
These are not college students. These are children.
They should only have to be worried about blemishes, test scores, and baseball games after school. They should be allowed to innocently wonder, “Does he think I’m cute?” “Does she like me?”
But now, they will ponder the life-changing challenges that will likely become part of walking into a classroom, trusting others, and viewing life through the filter that was forced upon their hearts and minds today.
School shootings don’t happen in middle Indiana. They don’t happen at 4-star schools. They don’t happen to “us.”
But today, it happened. In middle Indiana. In a 4-star school.
And I have felt the impact.
I will say, “I love you,” and I will say it often. I will laugh freely. I will cry when it hurts. And I will remember that life is not about “I.”
It is about loving others, laughing with others, crying with others.
It (life) is about living (not just knowing) the Golden Rule. (See Luke 6:27–38.)
It is about weeping with those who weep, even when we don’t feel the impact on the same level as those who may be on the front line. (See Romans 12:15.)
It is about more than just talking about God’s love; it is about living it and giving it. (See James 1:22–25.)
Open your heart.
Then…emotionally, socially, spiritually—feel the impact. Be the change.
About a week after unexpectedly losing my job, I realized that I would have to upgrade my computer programs to enable me to prepare an updated resume and to begin the writing I felt compelled to do. However, funds were low—to say the least—and I had no guarantee of making any more money in the near future. This was not a frivolous desire. It was a need—no, it was a necessity. I prayed. Fervently—with sincere faith that God would answer.