"Why Are You Crying Mommy?"

I had a wonderful morning with the kids.  We played, read books, and made cookies.  I had put Christian down for a nap, and Tes and I had just finished decorating our cookies, when I logged onto the internet.  That’s when my morning changed.   I, like many others, found out about the tragic shooting that occurred in Connecticut this morning, and was absolutely shaken to my core.  I immediately felt tears brimming over, and I ran up stairs to hide from from Tes.  I sat on my bed and wept.

I have always been saddened by violence in general, but today’s shootings were especially horrifying, because the victims were children.  Children who were not much older than my own.  My heart was there with the mothers of the fallen children, I ached for them, and couldn’t stop the “what if it were mine” thoughts from taking hold.  I couldn’t stop the tears from pouring down my face.  Then I heard a little voice ask “Why are you crying Mommy?”

I looked up to see Tessie standing at the top of the stairs.  She walked over to me, looking very concerned.  I held my arms open to her and she curled up in my lap, and hugged me tight.  I started crying all over again.  “Are you sick?” she asked.  “No honey, I’m just very sad.”  “Why?”  I told her that I had read something very sad, about a person who had done something really mean.  Tessie thought about that for a moment.  She looked at me, very seriously, took my hand in hers, and said “Let’s go downstairs and make some hot chocolate, that will make you feel better.” 

I stood up and let her lead me downstairs, and did as she asked.  Christian woke up, and the three of us spent the rest of the afternoon sipping cocoa, and snuggling close.  My kids didn’t notice that I kissed them more than usual, or hugged them tighter.  I tried not to let them see if I teared up, which I did many more times throughout the day.  They were there for me in exactly the way I needed, without ever realizing it.  The moment I became a mother, the center of my world shifted.  The thought of someone hurting my children is unthinkable, and awful.  But the gift they gave me, of letting me just revel in their perfection and brilliance, was amazingly beautiful.  And I needed some beauty today.