The weight of the world.

In these situations, words fail me, and yet, I am drawn to writing to try and make sense of a senseless situation.

On days like today, I feel overwhelmed and paralyzed. Another shooting. This time the deadliest one our country has experienced. This time worried for family who was there at the concert. 

Yet, there is little time to pause; kids have a way of making sure you continue on with your day. They are so bright and jubilant and innocent that they almost make me believe that the world I want to exist for them is possible. 

Our day continues on as planned. I take the kids to the library so they can join the “1,000 books before kindergarten” library challenge, which launched today. For “school,” my plan is to make a boat out of a cardboard box, dress like pirates, and write a story about our journey. 

It is a good day, and yet, it all seems futile. In what kind of world will my kids grow up? Is there any hope? What’s the point of using my time to make a pirate ship out of a cardboard box when so many people have died? Again.

So I mourn, and I hope against hope that something will change. I think about what I can do, looking into ways to take action. And yes, I still make that cardboard pirate ship, tie a scarf around my head, don an eyepatch, and journey off with my son, because that’s what he deserves, and that’s what we all deserve. To spend our life loving our family. I’ve spent so much of my life feeling guilty when these tragic situations arise. Why them and not me? Why do I get to cuddle my babies while someone else cries herself to sleep with a loss so overwhelming I cannot fathom it?  

However, I refuse to let the weight of the world crush me. I grieve and I also cuddle and read books to my babies. I mourn and I also have a picnic in the sunshine. I worry and I sail off on a pirate ship. I pause more often to practice gratitude for every simple moment. I let the dirty dishes sit in the sink a little longer than normal, because washing dishes does seem futile on a day like today, but I can’t, I won’t, let love and gratitude be futile. I refuse to live in a world like that. Just feeling guilty and overwhelmed and paralyzed means giving in. Focusing on love and gratitude means continuing to hope and try, even in my small corner of the earth, to make the world a better place. The beautiful thing about love and gratitude is that both of these are not made more scarce by my use of them; in fact, I hope the opposite is true.