My heart has been aching since the news of the terrorist attacks in Paris.
I can't stop thinking.. 'what if it had been me?'
'what if it had been my family?'
I have been increasingly disturbed by the number of people on my Facebook feed that are using this attack to beat the drums of their individual political agendas. I recognize that I am singularly different than many of my peers.... and that is okay. I live in a country where differing views are protected - though not well tolerated.
So I keep quiet. I remove annoying types of posts. And I recognize that most of my peers are afraid. Of many things.
And when people are afraid, they usually either cower
Usually it is not worth the effort of sharing my own opinion.
But when I picked up my son today, he was clearly agitated.
He said.... "Mom, I am so mad about all the posts I am seeing where people are using this tragedy in Paris to spout their own feelings about gun control.... and immigration... and call the President names. Don't they understand that we are talking about people who died?? People who are hurt! People who lost loved ones!"
And therein lies exactly what has been bothering me.
This is not the moment to proclaim my feelings on either one side or the other.
That only focuses attention on me
and my feelings
It certainly isn't right to use
the death of someone's mother
to shout my own opinions or satisfy my own need for attention.
It is time for some silence.
And maybe a little bit of motherly pride that my young man filled with all the vigor and strong opinions of youth recognized what we all seem to forget....
that we are talking about people.
People whose death and sorrow deserve dignity and respect.