Friday Happened.

I know that it's Monday. I know that my Made it Monday's have been kind of lame lately. I had all of these plans and ideas for a really great post today, but then... Friday happened.

This one has really rocked me. I have heard so many heart-breaking stories in my day- and I have cried and felt a heavy heart for victims. But this one has effected me differently.

I saw people posting on Facebook stuff like: "An elementary school?!" and so I Googled it. I read about what had happened. And then I immediately ran to the bathroom and I threw up. I literally puked. I didn't feel better afterwards. In fact, whenever the shooting at Sandy Hook comes to my mind, I still feel sick.

I cried a lot on Friday and I tried to get as much accurate information as I could. I talked about it with people. I threw up a second time when I heard more details later in the day.

Some loving family told me I shouldn't watch the news anymore. I should stop listening to the updates. I should take my daughter to go see Santa. I did these things. But for some reason, I felt so selfish. I kept thinking what if I knew these families? What would I tell them? I couldn't watch the updates about how your child was killed because it was too SAD?

I have felt the need to keep myself updated and informed in some sort of attempt to, I don't know... pay my respects? Mourn? Let the families know that I know they lost something?

I was doing pretty well on Sunday, but as I checked the updates about the investigation I found the list of names and ages of the victims. I felt sick again. I read that they all had multiple gun shot wounds.

Then my heart started to grieve not only for the victims families, but for everyone involved. I wept for the police who had to FIND such a horrific scene. I wept for the doctors who tried so hard to save two children and couldn't. What they must be going through! I wept for the vice principle who saw her colleagues shot in front of her. Who saw the shooter and was then shot herself. I wept for her and what she must be thinking as the only injured survivor. I wept for the teacher who got a substitute that day and for the family of that substitute because she was shot in the face. I wept for the children who had to watch that. I wept for the teacher who hid her kids in the bathroom and told them she loved them because she was sure they were all going to die and wanted love to be the last thing they heard. I wept for the teacher hiding her children in closets, and for the teacher who's body was found in a shielding position. I wept for the librarian that barricaded her door.

I wept for the brother and father of the shooter and all that they must be going through. I cried to God and I asked my own questions why. Why, if he was so mentally ill, does the Lord allow a person's mind to be so far gone that shooting 6 year-old babies is okay?

I wept for my own feelings of vulnerability. For the cruel fact that someone can walk in and take away your whole world.

As I sat in bed crying, I decided to read some positive things and I found this video. It's a father who lost his 6 year old on Friday. Their family is from Ogden, Utah. I don't know how he is standing on two feet let alone giving a press conference. Only one thing explains it. He is so desperate for people to know and understand that HIS daughter was special and lived and was lost that he had enough bravery to go in front of cameras and tell the world about it.

How can I not watch his story?

To his family I say: I hear you. I cry with you. I know that Emilie loved to draw. I know that she lived and made an impact in the world. I know that she is loved, and I know that she was unfairly taken. I hear you. I hear your heart-break.