I do.
And in the wake of the hideous shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary last Friday, I have felt ill with helplessness.
Those babies, those heroic teachers... their families...
It hurts so much that it feels personal.
Because it is.
It's easy to see our safety as an illusion, created by ourselves, necessary to keep from becoming terrified shut-ins. It's easy to see that it could be any of us at any time. Life is short, and fleeting and humans are fragile.
It's hard to know what to do.
Then, Ann Curry presented a great idea: Acts of Kindness in the name of those children lost at Sandy Hook.
Pass the legacy of love and care on to people in the name of goodness, of hope, of a better tomorrow, however you can, in small ways and tall.
Someone expanded it to 26 acts and now the hashtags are all over Twitter.
On Facebook my sister started a group and expanded it to 28, to encompass all the tragic loss that was had that day.
28.
Yes, for what better way to fight the evil than to replace it with good?
Noone can undo what was done, but maybe when you smile at a stranger, hold a door for a mom with her hands full, pop a kind note on someone's windshield, throw a couple of dollars at your favorite cause, maybe a heart or two will be healed. Maybe that person will do the same.
Maybe a revolution of good can be started, begun all because a young man was broken, broken beyond earthly repair and did the unspeakable.
The little children and the teachers who lost their lives on December 14th can never be replaced. But maybe if we go outside our comfort zone just a a bit, give a bit more than we normally would, we can gently remind the people of earth that there is so much good.
So much good.
More good than evil.
Let's be better. Let's be kind. Let's be there for one another.
Let's do our acts of kindness remembering the 28 people who's lives are over, and all those that they left behind, broken-hearted.
28 acts of kindness for 28 people.
(Twitter hashtags are: #20Acts, #26Acts, #26ActsofKindess)
Join the revolution.
2 comments:
I love this.
I felt that way too. My policeman hubby has told me for years that I (and most people) live in a bubble and don't really see the evil in the world the way he does. So a lot of my grief was for those police officers and EMTS. I pray Jason never has to see what those officers saw.
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