I was in the hospital recovering from brain surgery when the horrors of Newtown, Conn., began to flood the TV in the hospital room.
A nurse stood by my bed, watching the news with tears rolling down her face. The visitors of the patient in the next bed were praying.
The hallway outside my room fell silent.
As the nurse with the tears bent down to take my blood pressure, I watched one tear drop silently on the blood pressure cuff. She looked at me and said, “I have a young child these kids’ age. What do I tell her, what do I say to her about this?”
To the nurse with the tears, I said just this, “Ask her to forgive us. Ask her to pray for us.”
And outside the hospital the rain turned to mist, as tears fell from Heaven, as tears fell on Earth.
It has come to this: We have brought the battlefield to circle time.
We have mixed blood with finger paints, tears with nursery rhymes.
Not 40 miles from my house, 28 people were slaughtered in an elementary school.
Twenty of those killed were kindergartners.
Throughout Connecticut, bells ring for those lost. It is a gray day here, with a mist in the air. Heaven and Earth are crying.
And the funerals have begun.
They have begun for those 20 children who in less than a week went from Santa’s lap to their grave.
Last Friday, innocence died in America. Today we are burying it.
What do we tell our children about this, how do we explain ourselves, to them?
We speak of love.
Love is immortal. While 20 young bodies are gone, the love they brought to this earth will live on.
And it is that love that awaits us at our final destiny.
The miracle of life is that we are free to live it how we choose.
Love, in the face of the greatest horrors.
Faith, that the greatest love is waiting for us.
Forgiveness to conquer evil.
Tell the children that, no matter what, love wins.
Then we, as adults, need to go to our place of worship and ask for forgiveness.
And hope Love still listens.