What a Difference a Day Makes

 

Twenty-four hours.   One thousand four hundred forty minutes.   Eighty six thousand four hundred seconds.   Not a lot of time in the “big picture” of things, but enough time for changes.  Some changes for a lifetime.

Yesterday, children got out of bed eagerly anticipating Friday, a fun day at school as the week winds down and the weekend begins.  Yesterday, children got up and ate breakfast.  Yesterday, children picked out their own outfits for school.  Yesterday, children ran into the schoolhouse, laughing and talking with classmates.  Yesterday, children greeted their teachers as they walked into class. Yesterday, children put up their backpacks and sat down at their desks to begin what seemed to be like any other Friday.  Yesterday, children wondered why someone was shooting off firecrackers in the school building.  Yesterday, some children saw their last Friday on this earth.   Yesterday, some children experienced a horror that no one should ever have to experience.  Yesterday, some children’s lives were snuffed out in an instance.  Yesterday, some children’s idea of innocence was forever shattered.  Yesterday, some children witnessed images that will be with them for the rest of their lives.

Yesterday, parents got out of bed with the same routine of most days.  Yesterday, parents woke up being thankful for Friday, a day of excitement (even for parents) as the workweek ends, and anticipation of the weekend.  Yesterday, parents prepared pancake breakfasts and packed peanut butter and jelly lunches.  Yesterday, parents reminded their children to get their backpacks and school supplies for the day.  Yesterday, parents and children planned a weekend of dinners out, movies, and Santa visits at the mall.  Yesterday, parents hugged little necks goodbye for the day, and some goodbye for eternity.  Yesterday, parents went to work; went to the grocery store; went about their lives---just like any other Friday.  Yesterday, parents had no idea that this Friday would end up being much different that any other Friday. 

Yesterday, teachers got out of bed; ready to go to school and teach the children in their classes.  Yesterday, these teachers probably anticipated the weekend, but even more so, the upcoming holiday break.  Yesterday, teachers probably got to school early to plan and prepare for the day.  Yesterday, teachers welcomed kindergarteners with smiles and laughter.  Yesterday, teachers began the school day with enthusiasm and dedication that only teachers have.  Yesterday, teachers heard gunshots.  Yesterday, teachers ran straight toward a gunman, only to be shot down in his path.   Yesterday, teachers locked doors and hid students.  Yesterday, teachers shielded students, while laying down their own lives.  Yesterday, some teachers became heroes.  Yesterday, some teachers became memories.

Yesterday, a monster gunned down his mother in her home.  Yesterday, a monster drove to a school and forced his way inside.  Yesterday, a monster methodically and purposely walked down school hallways, and killed teachers.  Yesterday, a monster walked into full classrooms and executed children at will.  Yesterday, a monster took the cowardly way out by turning his own gun on himself. 

Today, children are in shock.  Today, children have lost innocence forever.  Today, children wonder “why?”  Today, children are afraid to go to school.  Today, children are without classmates, teachers, and parents.  Today, children are not concerned with Santa Claus or Christmas.  Today, children know the feeling of heart break.

Today, parents are in denial of how such a tragedy could have occurred.   Today, some parents have lost the light of their lives.  Today, some parents want to die.  Today, some parents would give anything just to be able to turn back time.  Today, some parents don’t know how to go on living.  Today, some parents blame God.  Today, some parents blame guns.  Today, some parents are too numb to feel anything.

Today, teachers worry that this could happen at any school, anywhere.  Today, teachers eagerly await Monday, when they can go to school and hug those precious students a little longer.  Today, some teachers are afraid to go back into the classroom.  Today, some teachers are being called heroes because of the immense bravery and dedication they exhibited in a time of crisis.  Today, some teachers are remembered for the wonderful people they were, and will continue to be in the hearts of those who so dearly loved them. 

Today, a monster has a name and a face on national television.  Today, a monster is dead, but few people mourn the loss.  Today, a monster is said to have been mentally unstable.  Today, a monster has rocked a nation to its core.  

Twenty-four hours.  One thousand four hundred forty minutes.  Eighty six thousand four hundred seconds.   Not a lot of time in the “big picture” of things, but enough time for changes.  Some changes for a lifetime.