I realized something very interesting this morning. When I first heard about the shootings in Colorado, my mind didn't go to the victims. It didn't even go to their families. It first went to the parents of the shooter.
Where did yours go?
It's not that I don't have compassion for the victims -- or their families. But I can't imagine what it would feel like to be the mom of the shooter. What if she was a good parent? What if he is mentally ill and his parents had tried everything?
My kids aren't killers. But it is difficult to be the parent of someone who causes other people pain -- in whatever capacity. So being the parent of someone who would cause THAT much pain -- I can't help but feel for them.
Apparently at least one other person agrees with me.
But maybe this sets me apart as different -- like so many things do -- from "normal" people. Maybe it makes some people angry -- especially those who aren't sure they even believe in mental illness.
But it's who I am. It's a part of me.
Bart is presenting at NACAC on Friday a seminar called Riding Your Internal
Monsters Down. As adoptive parents we have them - those internal monsters. But it's in the riding down of those monsters that we come more human -- more compassionate -- more inclined to offer grace.
Sixteen years ago Bart and I made a decision -- right about this time of year -- to submit our paperwork into the county to become foster parents. And because of that, we never have been, and never will be the people we were before. It's no surprise that I'm not thinking like everyone else any more, because I've been forever changed.