Look for the helpers, I told myself, as I watched the San Bernardino shooting unfold live on television last night while I made meatloaf in my warm, safe kitchen. I woke up this morning feeling sick about this bizarre new normal that is anything but normal.
We’re just days away from the 3rd anniversary of the massacre at Sandy Hook that shook our humanity but didn’t move us to do anything meaningful to change the insidious and growing culture of gun violence in our country.
I’m sick of it. I’m sick of guns. I’m sick of violence. I’m sick of terror. I’m sick of mass shootings. I’m sick of politics. I’m sick of looking for helpers.
I want to be a helper.
Before I woke the kids for school, I made donations to three charitable organizations that, to me, epitomize humanity, lift communities, and embody light. Giving my support to grassroots groups rolling up their sleeves to make a positive difference gives me a greater sense of purpose. It reminds me that compassion exists, change is possible, and resilience is real. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.
Look for the helpers today, but remember to be one, too.
The Runaway Mama by Jen Gregory 