Where are the Guardian Angels?

The shooting at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas is overwhelming. Each time I think about the horrible events of May 24, I find it is so painful that I need to deflect to something else, anything else. The thought of that kind of loss is nearly too difficult to imagine.  

I was teaching the day that Laurie Dann walked into Hubbard Woods Elementary School in Winnetka and began shooting. My school moved to “red alert,” which was designed to prevent senior pranks, when it was reported that the shooter was headed northwest. My school is only a few miles northwest of Hubbard Woods. This was more than thirty years ago. 

There are no words to console a grieving parent or partner. There is no pain I can imagine worse than the death of a child. It is so hideous and powerful and painful. Why must parents keep experiencing loss because of school shootings? 

What is wrong with us that we refuse to protect our children sitting in their classrooms? What is wrong with us that we argue about the rights of children not yet born, but we refuse to protect fourth graders? How can people rush to protect gun rights at the cost of children’s lives?  Anyone who has worked in education knows that putting more guns in school will not address this problem. It is a false fantasy solution that ignores everything we know about these situations. 

Even the National Rifle Association prohibits guns at its convention! Arming teachers will work, but having a convention full of gun owners won’t? I don’t understand. 

Let’s start a new organization: No Retro Abortions. This organization would advocate that we ban abortions beyond the 15-week or 3-month or the latest of late-term timelines and argue that even abortions that take place after birth should be forbidden. The organization could be called by its initials: N.R.A. 

Recently, I read a short story called, “Mr. Death” by Alix Harrow. The story is nominated for the prestigious Hugo award, and.I read the nominees every year so I vote for the winners. 

This fantasy story follows a relatively new “reaper” who ferries souls across the river of death. He is given assignments and then sits with the person as they die and accompanies them to the other side. However, as the story opens, he is given a horrible assignment: a child of only 30 month: a two year old. 

Our focal character has deep misgivings and does his best to rationalize and justify the child’s death. But he can’t. He lost his own child and has experienced this kind of pain first hand. As the story proceeds, he moves from giving the child a little extra time to being unable to complete his assignment. He refuses to complete the assignment even though it will mean much more than losing his job, it will probably mean he will be consigned to oblivion. 

If you are going to read the story, this is the place to stop reading. I am about to spoil it. Read the story and come back or skip to the paragraph beginning, “Lovers of life…” 

Here is the connection: when our reaper refuses to take the child and is willing to sacrifice everything, he is surprised to find that he is transformed. He is no longer a reaper and instead, he is a guardian. He stands beside the child as a  protector. 

Lovers of life, pro-choice, pro-life, we need guardians now. Our children need us all to become angels who protect them: in their classrooms, churches, synagogues, movie theaters, and homes. Not with more instruments of death, but with thoughtful and rational laws and rules. Other countries do this; we can do this. 

Can we transform from partners of death to protectors of life? The Supreme Court will soon rule about how the unborn should be protected. What about the newly born? What about the fourth graders? What about our children and grandchildren? 

Thou shall not murder. Put down your weapon and accept your wings. Protect the children. Please.