Just yesterday morning I was thinking how peaceful the world had been as of late. How there had been a good long stretch of time without a terrorist attack, and although I wanted to celebrate that publicly with a post, I opted instead to keep my gratitude about that fact to myself. Not wanting to “jinx” it as it were.
And then it happened.
While cozying up watching frivolous television with two of my beautiful girls, the news of the attack outside an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester came in. My heart sank. As a mother I felt two things; gratitude that it wasn’t my daughters leaving a concert, which they have done, and continue to do regularly, and then I quickly felt guilt. Guilt because just like I had felt such joy in finally finding Mikaela safe in Paris almost two years ago; I once again was able to be relieved that my three girls were safe, while so many other people’s babies, pride and joy, were not.
So many times in the last few years I’ve thought to myself, while being in a stadium at a concert with my girls, or saying goodbye to them as they headed out to one; “what if tonight is the night? What if this is the time that one of these sick fuckers bombs a concert?” Up until last night it had yet to happen, although I always thought, if you want to destroy a city, a country, our world, you take it out at its core, you go after their children. Nowhere are there more young people in one place than at a music concert. Then I would chastise myself for thinking such twisted thoughts, and pray that my paranoid thoughts would go away, and never come to fruition. And then it did. Last night.
I don’t have the words, or the understanding as to why there are some people in this glorious, wonderful world of ours so bent on destruction. So sick and twisted that they have no issue in robbing children of their lives, in fact they celebrate it, and honor it.
I pray for the parents who will now spend the rest of their lives blaming themselves for allowing their kids to go to the concert in the first place. Already a big struggle for those of us who often wonder if they’ll be “safe” there.
My heart aches for the empty bedrooms, with their posters, their stuffed toys, they trophies, and rumbled bed sheets that will never be occupied by their children ever again.
My soul weeps for all the dreams, goals and plans that will never ever be realized.
I hope that Ariana Grande doesn’t hold this against herself. That she doesn’t take on the weight of it, and blame herself for the loss. That she realizes that this had nothing to do with her, and that there really is nothing at all that she could have done to prevent it.
And my thoughts hold fast to faith. Faith that somehow all the good in this world of ours will find a way to rid it of these cowardly, opportunistic acts of violence against innocent people. Children just out in the world living their lives, doing regular kid things, that should be allowed to happen in safety, not fear.
God be with those in Manchester as they grieve, and heal. And be also with the peacemakers, give them the army of love warriors that are needed to bring about change in our world.