Why and what if?

With everyone else, I have been contemplating the events at Newtown. I have wept often in the days since the shootings; it seems so unfair that little children, with their whole lives before them should be torn from life so violently, so senselessly. I have tried to understand why people disagree with simply banning the kind of weapons Adam Lanza used that day. I have discussed the issue of mental illness with many other people. I have lingered in the why  and what if questions for many days.

Again and again I travel around the why and what if circle. Why did the shooter choose that school, that class? What if the shooter had grown up in a home without guns? What if we had spent more money researching solutions to mental health problems?

In the end I come back to the same place every death takes me to - that every person we grieve is evidence of love in the world. We do not grieve those we do not love. It gladdens my heart to know that there is love to be found in all of this. It hurts my heart to know how much these families grieve, but their grief bears witness to love.

Someone I personally knew died six days after the Newtown shootings. And I was reminded of a friend whose elderly parent died on September 12, 2001. She said she felt selfish to mourn just one who had lived a good and full life,  in the midst of the other tragedy. Not so, I said then. Honor the one you loved by grieving your loss. Only those who love someone can truly grieve them.

I cannot grieve the people who died in Newtown - I didn't know them, much less love them. Yet I feel great compassion for everyone affected by this, because I too have know the pain of losing someone I loved. And I feel compassion for the shooter's remaining family, because I too know the pain of losing someone to suicide. I know the guilt that accompanies that kind of loss. I too know the pain of losing a brother.

This is the place where we all intersect: love, and the inevitable pain that accompanies it. Almost all of us think that everything that love brings makes it worth the pain. Apparently God agrees. God loved us enough to bear the pain of coming into the world and suffering beside us. God loved enough to give up the Only Son. God loves enough to walk with us through every painful step, and every joyful one too.

We all share this - love and grief are our common experience. Love and grief transcend race, gender, geographic location, economic status, and models of governance. The great source of that love binds us together with love. Let yourself be bound to neighbor, friend, and family. Yes you will grieve, but first you will love.

It Gets Better

Last week people all over the place were posting videos and essays and other means of encouragement for high school kids, telling them that "it gets better". As you undoubtedly know, this began in response to the high number of suicides by gay youth but, gay or straight, high school can be a terrible part of life. Some of us look back on high school days as the most fun years of our lives. I'm not one of them. So I want to add my voice to everyone who says that it gets better.

"It gets better" is one of those incredibly simple facts of life that kids don't have the experience to recognize. And they often don't observe this as a phenomenon because we adults often work very hard at making life look easy. Why is that? I think there are definitely things that kids should be spared, but reality is probably not a good choice. Parents must decide what is appropriate to share, but every parent really ought to share with their kids when they find themselves in a tough spot. This is how kids learn that it does get better. And, when you share with them, it frees them to share when it's not good for them.

Maybe your worst days were in high school. Tell your kid about it. Maybe your worst year of work is this one because everyone at your company is waiting for the next layoff. You will probably make some changes in preparation for the worst, so explain to your kids why everyone's spending is curtailed. Then, when the crisis passes, you will have the chance to say "See! It gets better!" Maybe you have lost a beloved parent or friend - letting your kids see you grieve also lets them see that, over time, it gets better.

It gets better. Three little words of encouragement, a priceless gift. Somewhere, sometime in your life, someone has thrown you some much needed words of encouragement. Somebody said that you could do it; that you were improving; that they were glad to have you on their team. You smile as you think of it. It did get better! You've lived long enough to know this to be true.

There are people who believe that the easiest way to teach a child to swim is to throw them in the deep end of the pool. While struggling to swim enough to survive certainly motivates a kid to try hard, it's a dangerous practice. A kid can drown in the deep end of the pool. It makes more sense to me, to get in the water with your kid at the shallow end and work your way into the deep water, adding more skills as you go. Then, when you let go of your child and she swims to the side of the pool she has a sense of mastery, and a deep inner knowledge that she is getting better. And better.

Look for opportunities to teach this lesson. Your kids, your nieces and nephews or grandkids or neighbor kids all need to hear that it gets better. They don't know it, but you do. This little piece of knowledge can be the raft that holds them up when they are close to drowning. It really does get better. Pass it on!