Watching the Blossoming

While we have the gift of life, it seems to me the only tragedy is to allow part of us to die whether it is our spirit, our creativity or our glorious uniqueness.
~ Gilda Radner

I have a friend who is blossoming after a very long dry spell with no love in her life. It’s an amazing process unfolding, like watching a rose bloom in slow motion photography. To hear the joy as she describes a new relationship makes room in my own soul for joy and hope for our world.

This morning, I caught up on the news from Lancaster, the incredibly sad story of the young girls who were shot by a man ravaged by his past, in senseless brutality. I cried as I read the names and ages of the girls, and saw that sisters had died. I cried for the lost innocence of a people who try to inure themselves from the violence and waste in our society, choosing to live in simplicity and community. It’s a place where the people don’t feel the need to lock their doors. It’s a place we all wish we could have in our lives.

I mourn my own loss of yet more naiveté. There is no rhyme or reason to when or how violence can enter our lives. My children attend the equivalent of a one-room school house. It has a few more rooms than one, but there aren’t metal detectors at the doors, there are no police or security guards on campus. Nor do I want that for my children. I want my children to live their lives free of fear for a little while longer.

I noticed the difference when I went to an observation at another local elementary school. The front doors were locked; I had to buzz the office to be admitted. What does that do to the soul of a child to have to ask permission to enter your school? What does it do to the soul of a teen to have to pass through a metal detector to enter your school? I am not ready for my children to fall into distrust of the world. I want them to continue to believe that if they work hard enough, they can make a difference; make the world a better place.

I want to retain that innocence myself. I’m not ready to admit defeat; I’m not ready to admit that the world is inherently evil and a bad place. I’m not ready to give in to fear. I refuse to allow myself to believe the worst of people. I still insist that there is an essential goodness that we can build in people with kindness, caring, acceptance, and love. We can still choose to live in joy rather than fear.

So I continue to read the news from my friend who is living in pure joy in her new relationship. It’s wonderful to watch her unfolding, watch her learn to trust again, watch her blossom into her beautiful whole self. It brings me hope, because I can still see joy in the world.

My school is still not locked, and the children run out at the end of the day, still joyful because they took a walk or saw a new bug or planted their seeds for the coldframe or greenhouse.

Life goes on. We can still choose joy.