For the past twenty-five years, I’ve been Mother Goose to six beautiful children of my very own. Together, they constitute my largest reservoir of smiles. When I’m having a day that isn’t going according to my own personal expectations, I look at one or more of these young ones and suddenly nothing else matters except that I connect and love on my babies.
That’s when the smile of Mother Goose stretches wide and her eyes crinkle up with mirth. The first sign of my laugh lines began when my firstborn looked into my eyes — the laugh lines just get deeper everyday. Do you have laugh lines? Those curves in the skin of your face that miraculously connect the corners of your nose with the space on either side of your mouth? Do you hide them? Do you call them wrinkles? Mother Goose wears them as proudly as a medal of honor.
My puny words cannot express enough of my heartbreak for the moms and dads whose laugh lines are shadowed now by their tears and their sorrow and their loss.
My heart breaks these days as I consider what so many dear families are facing now after madmen stole away the lives of their babies. There is no evil as black as that which blasts away at innocent little children. There is no pain as deep as losing a child — nothing compares.
And the media will buzz for days about what should be done, and what can we do to prevent this from happening, and the politics of gun control will shout back and forth. And then life will get back to normal for most of us, and we’ll remember … but mostly we’ll just want to forget.
I beg you, do not forget. Use the tears, the pain, the grief, the images and the feelings of hopelessness and helplessness to motivate you. Each of us in our own way, in our own worlds, in our various circles can instigate change. Some of us in small ways, some of us in large ways — but all change is important and necessary to make this world a safer and better place for our children.
Mother Goose prays. Every morning before I turn on my typewriter, I spend time with the Lord. We go over the day a little bit, but mostly He listens to my concerns, my fears, my challenges, my complaints. Then He takes me by the hand, and we proceed to travel through the day together.
This morning I sent out an email to the mothers of children in my daughter’s fourth grade class — it was an invitation to come to the home of Mother Goose to pray on Monday morning. Being together, nothing fancy or formal — just praying for our precious ones and the families of the fallen across our country, but especially in Portland and Newtown.
In the world’s broad scope, maybe a few moms sitting around a table praying doesn’t sound like a solution to a horrible problem. Mother Goose believes that it’s the best thing to do right now. Wherever you are on Monday at 9:00 a.m., please feel free to join us. There is power in prayer.
There will be hero stories that come out of this tragedy, there will be stories of hope and stories of great love. Watch for them and cling to them. Love is the great conqueror. In this strange and scary story of life, Love wins.