Words

I've spent a lot of time this week trying to find words. Words to describe how I feel about what happened at Virginia Tech. Words that might answer my son who, after watching his teacher break down and cry after her Hokie freshman son finally checked in on Monday, came home from school and quietly asked me, "why would someone do that?" Words to put the whole event in perspective.

I find myself coming up short.

When something horrible happens in life, it seems natural to talk about it. To speak it out loud, to label it and chew it over and talk it until it becomes less horrible. Less shocking. Sorting out the words has always meant moving on.

This week, though, as I ached for our neighbors here in Virginia, words failed me. Like the silent, shocked students that filled the auditorium on Tuesday, I've been eerily quiet. I cannot wrap my head - and consequently my words - around these events.

Because I cannot come up with the words, I fall back on what others have said. And the phrase that has haunted me of late is an old one, "We have nothing to fear but fear itself."

I believe that to be true, and never more so than now. Today, when we live at a constant state of heightened awareness - interspersed with lulls that are invariably shattered by tragedy somewhere near or far, we live in fear. Not a day goes by that I don't fear for my children, my loved ones, my friends. And for me, the problem with fear is that putting it into words only makes it more real.

Pause for a moment at noon today in support of the families who lost a loved one on Monday. Pause, also, for all those whose lives are purposefully taken each day.