My second grader’s teacher sent an email the other day about “ALICE” lock down procedures. Further down in the email, there’s a notice that they will have these drills 5 times a year. (5!!!). I Googled “Alice lock down” and learned I shouldn’t have. It’s freaky the kinds of training our teachers (to be frank, I’m guessing it’s ministers and other public buildings) need to have these days.
It hurts at the deepest level that I have consistent reminders that I can’t keep my girls safe. I have to hope and pray that if something should happen, my kid’s teacher can figure out how to keep them safe.
This, I suppose, is what Elizabeth Stone meant when she said having kids is “to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body’. I trust her teacher with my daughter’s life. However, there are 18 other sets of parents also trusting in that, and if something happens, she just might not be able to save them all.
Most of the time, I want my kids to go and explore this bright blue world. I want them to see and experience and enjoy this life and planet. And get to breathe in all of it’s glories. But then I get an innocent email or see a story on the news or talk to someone who has gone through hell and I’m reminded I cannot send them into this world trusting that no one will harm them. I have to trust but protect and educate and shelter and pray and hope and keep my fears to myself.
The oldest was accepted to college out west. *WAHOO* And now she’s going to go so many many miles away. I think it’s fantastic actually, in nearly every way possible. I hope so very much that she gets to spread her wings and fly and find friends that boost her, and friends that challenge her. And classes and clubs that drive her and grow her. I hope she finds her heart’s desire ( and I don’t mean a man), and expands her knowledge and all those things that going to college should do. And I hope and pray that danger not find her, that she not need to call me or text me and say “I’m okay. Don’t worry about the news. It was on a different part of campus” or so much worse, someone else contact us because she couldn’t.
The thing is, I don’t want my girls to live from a place of fear. I want them to live in a place of hope. I want them to peripherally understand that people can be bad, but not that people are bad. Living in a place of fear stops growth and fun. It prohibits flying. So, I guess I have to limit my fear, trust that we can handle what comes at us, and pray that they never need the training they are getting.