Recent violent acts involving children and young adults worldwide give parents pause and restless nights. We are not so blind to the dangers of our world. All civilizations have faced forces of danger, whether from other humans or the wrath of Mother Nature. Childbirth alone, until the last hundred years, remained a compelling peril. Parents so often prayed, “I just want it to have all its fingers and toes.”
Now we find ourselves in a paradigm of deliberate targeting of children through acts of thoughtless violence, terrorism and trafficking. Not that some of these acts just now appeared, but never in such blatant scales of bravado, challenging every parent to hold their child tighter each day. When we see a school attacked or a public venue exposed to violence, the scenes of terrified parents rushing through the streets, desperate to find their missing youngsters, will not soon leave our memories. I remember discussing the evacuation protocols for a nuclear power plant accident with a local sheriff. When I asked how he planned to manage all the parents rushing to the schools to gather their children, instead of following directions to wait outside the evacuation zone, his response was that he would have armed officers block the roads. He was shocked when all the women in the room wagged their heads in agreement when I told him he would have wounded and dead officers if they stood between rural ranch women and their cubs. He just didn’t get it, since he had not been a parent.
The scar from the loss of a child in any family cuts deep and long. That shadow can deaden emotions for a generation, no matter what mental health or religious interdictions are applied. When we see the glassy-gaze of a refugee mother in a dreary camp, surviving the loss of her children to war, drought and disease, we know that woman’s soul has been tested to its limits. Her hope is lost. She was left on her own in a desert of loneliness and despair.
What can any one person do to climb out from the horror of these losses? The answer is usually little. There needs to be a blanket of support to catch and recover the parents, brothers and sisters, and so many others in a community after losing children before they could reach their potential. In cases where many fatalities occur, it takes a regional and even national outpouring of support. Donating funds is helpful. Bringing signs of support at the scene of the tragedy has some value…but usually not for those directly impacted. The real recovery is a continuous effort of remembrance and caring. Some of these are best expressed through the formation of non-profits to prevent further losses. Some are provided by public monuments or the naming of parks, streets or memorial areas. Another way is through funding educational activities from the publicly donated funds, so that other children may move on and blossom, knowing their success was partially due to the memory of others who were taken too early. Finally, public officials can pass laws and ordinances that address the threats that caused the loss, or mitigate the risks through other actions such as infrastructure improvements or better public safety planning.
When a culture and its leaders take a “that’s just life” approach after the loss of children, instead of a proactive agenda, then hope is tossed down a dry well…and the glassy gaze begins to grow across the land.
Hope can return when there are outcomes that make other children safer, promoting better continuity of youth survival. If nothing changes, when changes can be made, the wounds deepen, sarcasm grows and a culture begins to decay.
Now we find ourselves in a paradigm of deliberate targeting of children through acts of thoughtless violence, terrorism and trafficking. Not that some of these acts just now appeared, but never in such blatant scales of bravado, challenging every parent to hold their child tighter each day. When we see a school attacked or a public venue exposed to violence, the scenes of terrified parents rushing through the streets, desperate to find their missing youngsters, will not soon leave our memories. I remember discussing the evacuation protocols for a nuclear power plant accident with a local sheriff. When I asked how he planned to manage all the parents rushing to the schools to gather their children, instead of following directions to wait outside the evacuation zone, his response was that he would have armed officers block the roads. He was shocked when all the women in the room wagged their heads in agreement when I told him he would have wounded and dead officers if they stood between rural ranch women and their cubs. He just didn’t get it, since he had not been a parent.
The scar from the loss of a child in any family cuts deep and long. That shadow can deaden emotions for a generation, no matter what mental health or religious interdictions are applied. When we see the glassy-gaze of a refugee mother in a dreary camp, surviving the loss of her children to war, drought and disease, we know that woman’s soul has been tested to its limits. Her hope is lost. She was left on her own in a desert of loneliness and despair.
What can any one person do to climb out from the horror of these losses? The answer is usually little. There needs to be a blanket of support to catch and recover the parents, brothers and sisters, and so many others in a community after losing children before they could reach their potential. In cases where many fatalities occur, it takes a regional and even national outpouring of support. Donating funds is helpful. Bringing signs of support at the scene of the tragedy has some value…but usually not for those directly impacted. The real recovery is a continuous effort of remembrance and caring. Some of these are best expressed through the formation of non-profits to prevent further losses. Some are provided by public monuments or the naming of parks, streets or memorial areas. Another way is through funding educational activities from the publicly donated funds, so that other children may move on and blossom, knowing their success was partially due to the memory of others who were taken too early. Finally, public officials can pass laws and ordinances that address the threats that caused the loss, or mitigate the risks through other actions such as infrastructure improvements or better public safety planning.
When a culture and its leaders take a “that’s just life” approach after the loss of children, instead of a proactive agenda, then hope is tossed down a dry well…and the glassy gaze begins to grow across the land.
Hope can return when there are outcomes that make other children safer, promoting better continuity of youth survival. If nothing changes, when changes can be made, the wounds deepen, sarcasm grows and a culture begins to decay.
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