Sunday Sermon

One morning, approximately 2 weeks ago, after dropping Ava and the neighbor girls off at the elementary school, I drove on home through the 20 mph School Zone and I cried. Because that's what over-emotional, gestating mothers do when they consider the sweetness that is a School Zone.

People's precious babies walk, ride their bikes, drive in cars to school.  And as citizens, we slow our vehicles down to a crawl just to be extra careful not to squish somebody's baby (as Max would say).


Because our babies are so precious! I thought.


 Silly, I know. Who cries about School Zones? But that morning I was overwhelmed by the magnitude of our ability to create little people, and love them, and teach them, and keep them; an idea that I often take for granted.  But not that morning.  I cried and I was happy not to have an audience, because I knew I was being ridiculously lame. Though here I am telling you, because I'm not really embarrassed anymore.

Friday I cried right along with nearly every other mother in America, in shock and sadness.  Reality was too harsh and too real, while seeming completely unreal at the same time.  Someone shooting babies?  What has this world come to?

I thought about those mothers who'd kissed and waved their kids off to school, with time to spare or in great frustration because they were late.  In either case, completely unaware that their babies would not return home that day.

I wondered if there were any mothers lucky enough to have had a sick child that day. My Ava was home  with what we would come to find out was the flu.  Were there any lucky babies with the flu out there?

I am sad for the kids, the ones who were killed and the ones who weren't.  And most sad for the families that survive.  Their world has shattered and while we sympathize and feel sadness right along with them, our worlds will continue to spin.  We will go to work, and to the store, and to our Christmas parties.  We will get sad when we remember, but those poor families, they will not escape the sadness. They don't have to remember because they won't be able to forget.


A few days later I stood in the pharmacy line at Walgreens to pick up Tamiflu for our family's latest flu victim, Max.  The drive-thru line was endless and I hoped going inside would be quicker.  The line was no shorter. I stood behind a teenage girl, who when she got to the counter asked for "Plan B". She and her friend agreed that it was a great price and happily walked away with the purchase.  I nearly threw up in my mouth.

Because our babies are so precious!

What has this world come to?   A place where sick people do terrible things, a place where right is relative, a place where sad things happen everyday, a place where "good shall be called evil, and evil good."

People may argue over legislation, over blame, over cause.   A person's ability to make choices brings about consequences, good and bad.  But that ability is absolutely essential. And the truth to me, is that the sad consequences for so many of the poor choices we face in this world, are merely a symptom of something much greater.  All the money and all the laws and all the band-aids in the world cannot fix what is broken.

Needless to say, I've been a bit of a pessimist.

My take-away from my Sunday experience was this quote:

"Righteousness is the price of happiness and peace."

I have no control over any of the messed up stuff that goes on everyday.  The one thing I can control are my actions.  For peace and happiness in this sad world and in the Colton family bubble, the sacrifice of obedience to God's laws is well worth the cost.


 I guess it shouldn't surprise me, that of all that has been written for good or ill regarding this incident, I have found the most timely reassurance in these hundred year old hymns.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
their old familiar carols play,
and wild and sweet the words repeat
of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men."

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."

                       -I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day


Be near me, Lord Jesus; I ask thee to stay
close by me forever, and love me, I pray.
Bless all the dear children in thy tender care,
and fit us for heaven to live with thee there.

                         -Away In a Manger


There is one great cure-all for all that's wrong in the world. We will celebrate His birth and His life in a few days time, and maybe even a little more than usual, I am so grateful for that.