Umm...God?

I had a horrible horrible day yesterday. The kind of day that ended with me curled up in my bed weeping. The kind of crying that comes up from your soul. I call this Soul Sadness and it used to be a more frequent visitor to my life.

Now it strikes at strange times without warning and lays me flat, or curled in a ball, as the case may be.

So yesterday a group of events coincided to knock me on my ass.

An aquaintance, who I adore, found out the sex of the babe she lost at 12 weeks and posted a blog that shredded my heart. In the same blog she announced her intention to move away and I am sad for the lost potential of our friendship.

My boss and friend came in to tell me that the thyroid she had removed due to "nodules" turns out to have been cancerous and she will need follow up radiation treatments.

Her 13 year old son, who is suffering from anxiety related issues, came into our office drenched to the bone from riding his bike in the rain simply to throw himself into his mothers lap and cry, knees on ground, head in lap, sobbing. He doesn't even know about the cancer, he was reacting to a presentation he has to give at school. He is troubled and has sent his universe spinning.

I had a phone conference scheduled to speak to someone from the national mother's group I am now co-leader of and I got a message from her that she had to put her 17 year old cat down last night and she couldn't talk to me. She was crying on the phone. I have never heard her voice before but she made me tear up regardless.

I am reading Little Earthquakes. One of the babes in the book dies at 11 weeks from SIDS. I held my son close last night and just enjoyed snuggling him. I turned the monitor up enough that I could hear him breath.

It is amazing to me how bothered I am by things that don't truly effect me.

This is one of those things that makes me hopeful for us as a species. Empathy. An amazing thing.

Good God

I see my children in everything I do and see. They are the reason I sniffle over halmark commercials, get absorbed in Dragon Tales and they are the reason I cannot watch the news.

My children are my tears when I read about the little girls in the little one room school room who were not protected by God but now rest in his hands.

What are we doing to our innocents? These separated few. These passive, quiet, peaceful few. Our innocence rests in them to a certain degree. They are a promise kept. A vision of ourselves that reflects clear and true.

How then do we bring such blood shed to them. How does someone plan a group molestation and murder undetected? How are we so unconnected from each other that this man was married and a member of society and still packed a bag full of lube, guns and rope and set off for an Amish school house on a rampage based on his past indiscretions, that turn out to be false anyway?

My heart bleeds for those little girls as they lay dying on the wood plank floor.

I see my baby there with her little pig tails and little attitude. She is afraid of Elmo costumes and men in uniform. She is innocent in a way only a two year old can be innocent.

And yet she bleeds.