Dear God, Please Help

Editors Note: Belief in God is a personal choice. I have friends who don't share that choice with me. I love them and respect them. This post centers on God. 

I've started and deleted this blogpost a dozen times tonight. I've written paragraphs. And I've deleted those paragraphs. I've cried. I've mourned. I've looked through photo slideshows. I've read articles. I've watched videos.

And yet, I can't figure out how to put my emotions into words. A Utah Jazz beat writer, Jody Gennesy, wrote a wonderful piece on the Sandy Hook Elementary School tragedy, and I echo every single one of his sentiments.

Then, as I learned more about the tragedy in Connecticut this afternoon, my thoughts turned to my daughter. My thoughts turned to the little six-month old blessing that sleeps in the room next to me. My mind wandered to her smile. Her laugh. Her cries. Her eyes. Her hands.

I longed to hug her. I needed to hold her. I needed to see her.

I thought of those that I love dearly. I thought of my nieces who were on an airplane coming to visit. I thought of my nephews. I thought of my nephew who is due this week. I thought of the world he was coming to. I thought of the phone call I had earlier in the day with my friend Cora--a kindergartner herself. She asked for my address so she could mail a letter to our family dog. I gave her my address. She said she loved me. I told her I loved her too.

I thought of her sister, Penny. I smiled.

I thought of our friends, Olivia and Hannah--both elementary school children. I thought about their families. I thought about how much I enjoy their visits. I thought of all my friends with young children. My friends who take so much pride in their children's accomplishments. My friends whose eyes light up when talking about their kids or their nieces or their nephews.

I finished work. Got in my car. Drove to my mother's home eagerly--to pick up Etta. I fought back tears pulling into the driveway. I fought back tears walking to their door. And I fought back tears as she reached for me when I walked in the room.

I held her. Kissed her. Hugged her. Laughed with her. Smiled with her.

I thought about how she wasn't aware of what happened across the country.

Then, I thought about how she was one person I know who has more insight to where these young shooting victims now were.

Then I thought about God. Certainly He was pained as these young children were taken from their families in such a senseless act of violence. Certainly He wept. Certainly He hurt. He had to have put His hands to His face as these children's lives were cut short. He had to have been in pain as He watched another one of His creations exercise agency in such a heinous way.

Then I thought about His reunion with each of those children. I thought about Heaven's newest additions. I thought about God meeting each child with a hug. A kiss. And a smile.

I acknowledge God's hand in so many things in my life and in the lives of those I love. I think He loves to help His children. I think He helps His children all the time. I think He is there even when I'm not seeking Him out.

Then I stared at a blank page and composed a letter. A letter to God. A request for continued help.

Dear God, 

Please help. 

Please help those families whose homes feel empty tonight. Please help those mothers and fathers who have one less tucking in to do tonight. One less bedtime story to read tonight. One less set of teeth to remind they need brushing. One less goodnight kiss. 

Please help their hearts. Please help their spirits. Please help. 

Please help us all put aside our differences. Please help us all mourn together. Comfort each other. Smile at each other. Help each other. Love each other. Be there for each other. Be tolerant of each other. Be friends. 

Please help us recognize our blessings. Please help us take nothing for granted. Please help. 

Please help our society come together. Please help our leaders. Please help our future. Please help. 

Please help, 

Me