Thankful for the Heroes

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Yesterday I was trying to get back into the swing of things after having been away for most of the previous week, and I was catching up with some computer work. Being a runner most of my life, I wanted to hear the results of the Boston Marathon and had a window open on my computer for a live coverage blog from Runner’s World.  The coverage had ended for the elite runners, and I was just waiting to hear how my sister in law finished.

Then my husband called with the news of the explosions.  His sister, who was running, was ¾ of a mile from the finish when the bombs went off. First in shock, I now cannot shake this terrible feeling of sadness and helplessness. News reports send me into tears. I wasn’t there, nor were any of my loved ones harmed, but many lives were shattered yesterday and my heart aches for them.

What do you say when you have no words? I’m heartbroken. I’m heartbroken for those who lost their lives or were injured. I’m heartbroken for an 8 year old innocent child who will never grow up. I’m heartbroken for those who saw the carnage and will never be able to erase those images from their minds. And I’m heartbroken for the fact that our children are growing up in a world where they can’t feel completely safe anywhere.

Not too long ago, I wrote a post about the “new normal.” The new normal that my children, and so many others, have grown up with. As a child, I never remember feeling apprehensive…I ran free, without a care in the world. Today our children are vilignant…they’re on alert. To watch for suspicious characters…people who shouldn’t be there…backbacks that are left with no owner in sight.

We were in Boston visiting friends when the events of 9/11 unfolded. My oldest son was just a toddler when he pointed to the tv and said “that plane just hit the building.”  My heart aches that he saw that. Newtown is a neighboring town to us…we know many people there. One of the teachers who was killed did her student teaching at my children’s elementary school. My daughter has friends that attend schools there. Now of course, there have been many changes in school security as a result. My youngest son told me he doesn’t like having police officers at his school because it makes him feel like it could happen to them. And now this, once again, very close to home…with their beloved aunt less than a mile from the finish line.

The reality is I can’t protect my children from this. I cannot shield them. I can do my best to talk to them about these horrendous events when they take place, on a level that they can handle. For young children, that may mean turning off the television and sparing him the details that could be imprinted in their minds. For my children, who are older, it means talking about it, listening to their questions and giving them honest answers. But what I think is the important thing I can do as a parent, is teach them about the “helpers,” the wonderful people who showed bravery and compassion in the face of unspeakable evil. I can teach them empathy and kindness and a willingness to offer a helping hand. I can teach them that there is much more good in the world than evil. There were so many heroes yesterday…those that ran towards the blast and the carnage to help, rather than away. Those that carried people to safety. Those that opened up their homes to people that needed a place to stay. And many more.

Am I am nervous that we are no longer truly “safe” anywhere? Absolutely. But I refuse to let these tragedies dictate how we live our lives. We cannot predict what an evil person or group will do. But we can control what happens after. We can control how we react. We can control who we are. This is what we can teach our children. As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.” And that, in the end, I think will make us happy.