The fog is lifting.

I was a little worried. It’s very rare that I find myself devoid of words, paralyzed, unable to write.

But last week, grief came knocking.

I wasn’t surprised. Just a little curious that none of my strategies, tools or tactics were working.

Nothing in my toolkit could lift the all-encompassing sorrow I experienced in response to the heart-wrenching tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary.

In the past I’ve called on ACTION. Action has never failed me. Action has seen me through personal loss.

Action gives me some degree of purpose when I’m called upon to support a friend or family member and I have no idea how to comfort or console that person in the face of terminal illness or the untimely death of a loved one.

This time grief called me to a very different place. Instead of action,

it called me to be still.

Stillness is uncharted territory for me. Stillness calls forth memories.

I remember 911 and the collective loss we shared as nation just over a decade ago. I looked at grief differently when that tragedy brought me to my knees. Feeling my way into the shock and horror of an assault on my country left me stunned.

I remember the color of the sky on that day. Robin egg blue. I remember looking at that beautiful sky and wondering how it became a vehicle for such a horrific event.

I remember looking at my little first graders and wondering how I would explain to them that something terrible had happened that day

but we were safe

as I tried unsuccessfully to reach my husband to see if HE was safe. Did I have a cell phone at that time? I don’t think so. I remember the guidance counselor relieving the teachers for a few minutes, one by one, to tell us what had happened and to see if we needed to call our husbands. They started with the faculty members who had loved ones working at the Pentagon.

I made my call. There was no answer but I knew in my heart my husband was making his way out of Washington, DC, unharmed.

That day was surreal as were the weeks that followed but I had a job to do. I was responsible for the care of my little six-year old fledglings. I simply put one foot in front of the other. I made a decision to stay focused on the children under my watch.

We wrote words.

We read books. (Lots of books.)

We made art.

We solved problems.

We laughed.

And in the midst of all that chaos we carried on. And our nation came together in a powerful way.

One year later I found myself looking at the same blue sky from the window of the same classroom. Only this time I was wondering how I was going to explain to the little cherubs in my charge that we could no longer go outside to play because…

it wasn’t safe.

The Beltway Snipers were at large. We were being advised to walk to our cars in a zigzag manner when leaving the grocery store. A visit to the local gas station or Home Depot brought with it a feeling of anguish. And anxiety. Three weeks felt like an eternity.

Yet once again, I had a purpose. I had little ones to teach.

Words to write.

Books to read.

Art to create.

Problems to solve.

Laughter to ignite.

There’s nothing quite like the sound of laughter in a first grade classroom. A chorus of laughter.

And then came Sandy Hook Elementary. I am no longer a first grade teacher. I’m a nourishment counselor. I have work to do. But I can’t stop thinking about the children

and the teachers

and the parents whose lives have been shattered by a senseless act of violence that we cannot fathom, let alone explain.

And so I’ll give myself permission to feel that sadness and grieve for the families whose lives are forever changed by this tragedy. And I will find ways to engage in a dialogue that brings us closer to the unified collective I witnessed in the wake of 911.

And yes, I will get back to work because even though I am no longer teaching small children, there are

Words to write.

Books to read.

Art to create.

Problems to solve.

And laughter to ignite.

I’ll be launching my Well-Nourished Woman Inner Circle, albeit a little later than planned. I hope to see you there.

And yes, the doors to the Inner Circle are open. To find out what it’s all about, you can follow this link. More to unfold soon. . .

“We owe our children, the most vulnerable citizens in our society, a life free of violence and fear.”
~ Nelson Mandela

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