Sugar, spice, snails, puppy dog tails

Why?

Yesterday part of the sky fell, but I couldn't get to my journal. My heart broke in dismay as the Columbia Space Shuttle flew apart as it tried to bring seven crew members back home. However, as President George W. Bush said in his speech, although they failed to return to Earth, they did go home. Seven families grieve, as does the whole world.

History flickers through my mind. About seventeen years ago, I watched the lift off of the Challenger Space Shuttle; I watched in horror as the explosion filled the screen. For two days I've used Challenger rather than Columbia many times in my writing and in my conversations. The two intertwined in my mind, now forever.

Then I read a story on Writing.Com that shocked and greatly saddened me. I hope and pray the author did not mean the piece to sound as it does; surely, the writer does not mean to excuse, no, not only excuse but vindicate, the attacks on the Twin Towers on September 11, 2001. I have read and respected this author, but yesterday was the first I had read that story. I am heart sick and saddened beyond explanation.

As I told someone today, Bob, my middle child, is a major in the Air Force. I live with the knowledge that I could receive the horrifying news the families of the Columbia crew received. I don't know how I would survive; I know a part of me would die. The fact remains, though, that he donned that uniform to serve and protect his family and the rest of this country's citizens, whether they deserve such protection or not. Those killed in the airplanes and in the Twin Towers didn't wear military uniforms; they were innocents deliberately killed because they were easier to kill than an army that could and would fight back.

Oh, dear God, there are none so blind as those who will not see. Open our eyes, and our hearts, that we may know that sometimes war is impossible to avoid; sometimes we must fight for what we believe and for our freedom. Help us also to see that killing one group for revenge for actions of others is cold comfort, and cheering on those who do is wrong. I cry for the pain that innocent people feel each day in different parts of the world, but, please, help me never to encourage others to inflict more pain on different innocent people.

I suffered when my niece was tortured and murdered. I forgive the man who molested her, ripped the hoops from her ears, raped her, and then murdered her; but I wait with no remorse for his time to receive a final dose of drugs for a permanent sleep. I don't wish punishment to fall on his family or friends. I don't want to go forth and murder others who look like him or live where he did. Her death wasn't a story, made up to influence people, with holes in the plot that cause it to fall in upon itself.

My heart still bleeds from the death of my baby. While her heart started struggling, the nurse who was to watch her stood in my room complaining because she was having to work overtime because of my baby. Maybe Regina would be alive with a family of her own IF that nurse had done her job, but I don't hate all nurses and take vengence on them. I also don't write telling others to seek revenge for me.

I wanted my next journal entry to be one full of joy. I didn't want to write about sorrow and pain and suffering and loss. Life certainly changes my plans quite often, not always for the better.

I wonder why. Why did the sky fall yesterday? Why do seemingly intelligent people wish to stir up hatred? Why can't we work to find solutions? Why do we blame the one trying to break up a fight rather than the bully who intigates it? Why?

Viv, the teacher