Fear and Hope in Central Virginia

I am not a poet. I'm not a preacher, or a counselor of grief. I'm not a politician, or a talking head on television armed with witty writers of dialogue to fill my teleprompter with words of wisdom and healing. I'm not an author that can fashion language into pictures so startling and full of light that even the most stone-hearted among you will be moved to tears.

I'm just a mom. And a resident of Central Virginia.

I doubt that you will gain much from my ramblings that you can't find at other, more prestigious and informative sites. I haven't searched the web for facts, or assembled long pages of theories on why this thing or that has happened. I don't have any answers. If you're looking for those, you've come to the wrong place. All I have is my feelings, my fears, and yes, even a bit of hope. I am driven to share these with you today. I don't expect that my voice will be heard beyond the pages of this small, personal blog. I would be very surprised to learn that more than a few will even read this. Still though, I must write today. I must share what is on my mind.

Raising children with my husband in Virginia has been one of the monumental blessings of my life. This place has become home to me, in a way that this vagabond mom only ever dreamed home could be as a child. Growing up in too many states to really remember, traveling the country according to the whims of my own gypsy-hearted mama, I always held a secret desire for a special place to belong. In my childish yearnings, I wanted a large place, made of strong walls that could withstand any storm, all strong winds, and yes, even the occasional hurricane of words and shouts that living as a family often entails. I saw a sturdy structure, most usually on a hill, overlooking some picturesque site or another that would easily fit on a postcard or a landscape calendar. This place would be near the mountains, with fresh clean air. It would be near the ocean, close enough to escape to my beloved salt water if the need arose. The place would be near a large, vibrant city, to appease my need for activity. Yet it would also be near a small, quaint town, with old streets and historic buildings, to keep me in touch with a past that has shaped me. In this place, I would find a group of friends, young and old, rich and poor, that would feed my soul with love and laughter. I would have that thing I so often searched for in every place to which I was sometimes unwillingly dragged - community. It's almost funny that, after joining the Navy and seeing the world, I would land in Virginia. This was not the place that I pictured when I thought of home those many years ago, yet has become exactly the home I always longed to have.

When tragedy strikes, I automatically start cataloging my choices, trying to decide how things that I have done in my past are going to affect my future, and the future of those that I hold most dear. This is especially true now that I have children. I rethink virtually every decision that has led me to this place where I am now, in a house with sturdy walls, on a hill overlooking a small pasture, with mountains in the distance and an ocean down the road, two capitals within an hours drive, an Old Towne that I've claimed as my own, and a community that has embraced me despite my eccentricities.

People ask where you are from, and you say the place that means "home" in your heart, sometimes the place of your birth, usually the place of your childhood. I often replied "Well, I grew up all over, but I live in Virginia now". More recently though, I've come to think of myself as a Virginian all the time. Two children have been born here, four others have adopted it as their own home. Of those six, two of them look forward to one day attending the great college that is Virginia Tech. We pass the turnoff often on our travels to see other family, and it never fails to garner a wistful look and a "Someday, Mom, you're dropping me off there" comment.

Would I still send my children there now, after this week? How could I, knowing the tragedy that has befallen so may? Of the thirty people killed, almost 20 were from Central Virginia. Does that change my mind about the future direction my children will take? Should it?

Without going into already catalogued detail of the gunman and his victims, or supposed errors made by school administration or handgun dealers, I want to say, loudly and unequivocally, that my children will attend Virginia Tech in the future, if it is their desire to do so. While I abhor violence in any form, I still recognize that not all people are as full of the despair that claimed the young man responsible for the deaths of so many.

My fear that this tragedy could happen again, and my own cherished children could be involved, is far outweighed by the anger that is slowly seeping over me at the way the media continues to fuel the flames of hatred and intolerance already so hot in this world. While "gun control" generally evokes strong feelings in a person, regardless of the side you might take, that knee-jerk reaction should not be the solution. Nor should a condemnation of the school or its officials take center stage during this time. Instead of finding a direction in which to point fingers, people should be united in mourning the loss of lives cut short in their prime, of lives that were full of courage and grace, and yes, even of a life that was full of anger and despair. I'm not condoning the acts committed by the young man responsible, but the loss of life, any life, really is a reason to mourn.

The students at Virginia Tech are a very special group of some of the best and brightest minds this country has to offer. Young people from all over the country strive to make it to Blacksburg, in search of an education that will often mean the difference between a decent job and merely making ends meet. In this state, however, going to Tech is more than just the thought of a good education close to their houses. It is a dream that lives in the hearts of young boys and girls, teenagers, and even adults, a dream to wear the red and orange and be a part of something that is larger than self. For some, making it to Tech is like coming home.

That's a sentiment I can understand. While I'm not a Tech alumni, I am a Virginian. Home is not just where you lay your head at night. It's a peace that invades every facet of your life, every shadow of your soul. Tech was home to many of those students. However, this week their safe walls were breached by violence and death. Should they leave and try to find a new home elsewhere, or would that be like letting evil win? Those choices are not for me to make, neither are they for you to judge.

Whether or not 'gun control' laws are made stronger, whether or not the administration undergoes censure, ridicule, or even the inevitable and sadly common lawsuits, the victims will not return. The wounds that were inflicted go deeper than the bullets that were discharged. Peace was shattered, and home was violated. But friends, hope was not lost. Even today, all over the country, and most especially down the road at Tech, people gather together and weep, mourn the loss of friends and co-workers, and look together toward a future that includes the knowledge that, although we may not understand it, there is always a Perfect Plan. Prayer vigils have sprung up across the campus, across the community, across the state, and even across the country, led by students that are not willing to pin blame on anyone, but seek only the chance to mourn and heal.

Please join me as I send my prayers to the people involved in this tragedy, to the family and friends of the people that died, to the community that is suffering the shattering of so many lives, and yes, even to the young boys and girls whose dream it has always been to attend that still great school. During this week when so many lives have been changed forever, I cling tight to my family. I cherish the fragile peace that exists within the walls of my own fortress on a hill, and I thank the Lord above that He has blessed me with this home that I have. And I pray that others will find the same solace that I have in His comforting embrace, no matter the state of their own world right now.

Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest. - Joshua 1:9

6223