When a shooter comes to school

My children loved Officer Broadnax - a familiar presence in their elementary school years.  His disposition was perfectly suited to the work - dapper in his uniform with a wide smile and a quick laugh.  

If I had to choose a man with a gun to stand sentinel in the elementary school, I'd choose Officer Broadnax.

My children aged, we moved, but the officer with a gun remained a consistent presence.  A few years ago, the school council decided to hire an officer to be present at each Mass and also during drop-off.  

After all, these are uncertain times.

Shooting at the Church of the Annunciation
Last week, my dear friend and college roommate, Molly, dropped off her pre-schooler for day 3 at the Church of the Annunciation School in Minneapolis.

For those of you that haven't been following the news cycle, a shooter arrived and began firing into the church, where the school + community were gathered for Mass.  

Eighteen were wounded, two children died, and the killer died by suicide.  

How do you write about this type of horror?  About shattered glass and shattered lives, about small bodies and anguished parents?  About the policy paths or political debates?

Look for the helpers  
When the news is bad and I feel small, I feel myself tipping into despair:  the problem is too big and that the people with the power can't or won't do what matters.

But the truth is that no small goodness is insignificant.  And despair robs the world of the incremental grace that I can offer.

So, for this Friday, I'd rather write about the helpers.  I'm reminded of a quote from my favorite neighbor-and-sage, Mr. Rogers:

If you look for the helpers, you will know there is hope.

And there have been so many helpers.

During the Mass, older children were seated next to younger ones.  As the shooting began, 

"We had one kid that covered up another kid and took a shotgun blast to his back," Marty Scheerer, chief of Hennepin Emergency Medical Services, said on Thursday.

The school principal noted,

"Adults were protecting children, older children were protecting younger children," he said. "It could have been significantly worse without their heroic actions."

Sheerer added: "The teachers were amazing. The teachers were getting shot at. They were protecting the kids."

This is from a text that I received this morning from Molly:

The community has been amazing - a few examples:

-  Countless volunteers (over 600 one day!) putting up blue/green ribbons all around.  John says "these ribbons mean people love my school!"

-  Pop up resource centers with baby bunnies, pro athlete visits, volunteer psychologists/counselors and promises of continued priority access to mental health professionals

-  Almost $20K in donations (mostly from parents) for teacher gift baskets/door dashes

-  Free homemade meals for affected families from famous local chefs

-  Free outings for Annunciation families to Sky Zone, Skateland, and today - Nickelodeon Universe!

Be a helper
I'm struck by the creativity and agency in each gift that the community is offering to the grieving.

The chef knows how to make food that comforts the soul - so she bakes.

Counselors know how to hold space - and they show up.

Big theme parks open their doors.

Does this make the evil and the sadness go away? 

No. 

But we heal in community - we mend when our pain is witnessed and held.  We become whole again in the company of helpers.

I sent off a DoorDash gift card - just to take a bit of the burden off of a devastating week.

And, whether it is in the face of a large-scale tragedy or one that hits closer to home, opportunities for care stretch out over time.

Sprinters and marathoners
At the Empathy@Work event last week (which was wonderful), Wade Brown shared an observation from his own encounter with loss.

"I found that there were sprinters and there were marathoners.  There were those that were there right after it happened and then there were those that were with us for the long haul.  I want to be a marathoner with people"

For those in your life that are encountering challenge, loss or disruption, the pain and the grief aren't neatly tied up in a week or a month. 

"Marathoners" remember to check in, months later, when the cards no longer come and people expect that you are back to normal.  

Book Recommendation
 

I just finished The Anthropocene Reviewed:  Essays on a Human-Centered Planet by Indianapolis author John Green.

What a lovely read - perfect for the end of the evening as you sip tea and prepare for bed.

Green reviews a diverse set of topics, from sycamore trees to QWERTY keyboards, with soulful, funny bursts of insight.  We are vulnerable and fragile and beautiful all at once, through the lens of Green's essays.  I give The Anthropocene Reviewed four stars.