Have we forgotten?

Friday the 13th has, by some, been marked as a day of bad luck. Superstitions sometimes are associated with the date. This most recent Friday the 13th came with horrific news that afternoon as I was running errands with my two sons.
We were driving thru some neighborhoods on our way to do some errands. My car radio was on, as it often is, and I heard the radio announcement about this mass murder being reported from Paris, France. I looked at my clock and it was just past 230pm. I looked over at my teenager and then at my younger son in the row behind me. I immediately thought back to a time when I was getting into my vehicle, pregnant with the teenager who sat next to me, as I listened to a nearly speechless radio announcer report the planes which had crashed into the twin towers.
Terrorists. Extremists. A small group of radicals with an agenda of terror and death.
I was not in New York, Pennsylvania or DC when "9-11" happened. I have never stepped foot on its soil. I did not know anyone whose life was lost in these attacks. But it affected me. I remember holding my belly and wondering why and how I could bring a child into this world with such terror going on in this world.
Fast forward 14 years. I have 6 children I am trying to raise in this God forsaken world. I was fast reminded a few days ago of both my luck and my blessings to be raising my family here but I do not feel safe. I am in fear of this group of radicals who speak of my country on their lips.
I purposely do not watch the news on television or listen to radio news programs. I shifted my attention in other directions several years ago and for many reasons. I have not been able to escape much of the news the last few days, however. I turned to settle into my late night routine of snuggling into bed and going thru my dvr to watch some of my programs and quickly found how they were replaced with coverage of the mass murders that took place in Paris. I watched a few and deleted many other recordings.
The other coverage I have seen about Paris has been Facebook. Several of my friends have opted to change their profile pictures so that France's flag's colors cover them. I saw this as a step towards solidarity and support from former coworkers, classmates, neighbors, relatives and friends. It made me feel as though we knew what the French people have now experienced. Our country knows what it feels like to be violated, raped, terrorized, and live in fear because of the actions of people who had an agenda they followed through on.
But changing a photo.......is it enough? I have seen many not mention or open discussion about it. Do we remember?  Have we forgotten? My news feed is covered in football posts and the occasional good wishes and prayers for an injured football player, but what about what just happened?? I am in shock. I am frustrated. I don't know what to do or say about the lack of reaction. Do we care? Do we really care? In one news report, they mentioned the NFL pledging to crack down further on security in upcoming games. These terrorists attacked innocent concert attendants and people frequenting cafes. It is the first attack in the West and it could happen to us here. In a 50,000 capacity stadium where fans gather to watch a game. That should be enough to pray for our brothers and sisters around the world, for prayers that these extremists be captured, and that evil will not prevail.
God be with us. God comfort us. God save us.

The Struggle Is Real And Comes In The Form of a Seventh Grade Girl

There is this awkward prepubescent girl that coexists in my mind. She is the one who is overlooked, that seeks approval and wants everyone to like her. I have been reminded of her many times in the last few weeks.

I read a blog that resonated with me and happened to compare the content of the article to being a 7th grader, getting pushed around in the hallways. Yes, that would be what I am relating to. Trying to find my way around without getting shoved into a row of metal lockers or dropping my armload of books. To avoid being teased and made fun of for what I am wearing (or not wearing) to school.

I have tried to evict this annoying girl out of my life but she always manages to stick around. Her presence is there and I am reminded that there is still more to address before she can grow up and move on.

Every once in awhile I will cross paths with a person from my past and the awkward prepubescent girl makes an appearance. Facebook is a venue where this will happen. I like to use it as a forum to stay connected to friends and family. The awkwardness comes when a former friend happens to leave a comment on the pages of a mutual friend. I get wrapped up in the old hurts and think about the reasons that friendship has dissolved. On a bad day, it gets me worked up.

I know about the different options of blocking parties so that they magically disappear, assisting with putting away the bad memories mixed in with significant portions and experiences I had with an individual. It seems, well, childish to hit a button to virtually erase their existence from an online world. I did this a few years ago, when the pain was too fresh and the wounds were too deep. It helped but it didn't prepare me for real life interaction or the occasional run in at the local store. In real life, you can't erase or block someone (although there are people who will debate this). To me it isn't reality.

Several years ago there were a group of friends, which included my only sister and best friend, who betrayed me and violated my trust. Well over 200 years of friendship existed between me and them. I am still working thru this and know so when I stumble across a situation that requires trust and acceptance. That awkward, insecure prepubescent girl makes an appearance. I doubt my worth, I doubt their loyalty. I think back to the people who hurt me and try to protect this naive girl whose outfit isn't designer labeled and not a single digit size. I know the depths of the hurt and at the hands of people who I loved and try not to make the people in my life today see this girl who hasn't gone away.

I know that I have grown from the pain and that it has made me stronger. I give credit to support groups I've attended, a small group I belong to, lunch dates and weekly dinner dates, and attending church to the healing of my heart. I have leaned on my faith to get me through the rough patches when I felt alone and hurting. I have worked on being authentic and transparent as I muddled my way thru it. I try to give credit where credit is due. I believe there is a purpose to it all and the end result is ultimately growth.

But that prepubescent girl still sticks around..........