Death, Lock-downs, and Fuzzy Blankets

For, perhaps,only the second time in my entire life, I, this afternoon, went into a fabric store and purchased some fabric and thread. I was driven to this endeavor by my daughter, Lucy, who could not stand to see and hear her brother crying so mournfully last night. His loss, admittedly minimal in the grand scheme of things, was the third and final "tragedy" of the day...and the only one that I had any power to address. 

At bedtime last night, the reality became clear...Henry's "blankie" was gone, lost, probably thrown away by whomever likely found it (and, understandably,  mistook it for a rag) in the parking lot of Harris Teeter.

To a seven year-old, a tragedy is a tragedy. And for Henry, this was tragic (He has never slept without it, since his birth...and has been carrying it, concealed, in his is backpack to school ever since he's gone to school)...and it was the third tragedy of the day.

On Wednesday of last week (the day before Thanksgiving) we received word that Grier, a boy in Lucy's third grade class, had died after a 7-year battle with neuroblastoma. Giving her that news was hard. 

Even though he had only come to school a few times this year, Lucy came immediately to love and care for him. We cried and hugged, and she told my husband and I that she was sure that Grier is the champion at fighting cancer. 

Over the next few days of the Thanksgiving break, she would bring Grier up in conversation from time to time, but life took up its more usual rhythm...until Sunday night, when the thought of returning to school knowing that Grier was dead overtook her. 

Her biggest concern was for her teacher (Mrs. McDonald), whom, Lucy was sure, would cry as she talked about Grier (Lucy is a natural "comfort giver," and this was a little too big for her). She got to sleep and headed out to school Monday morning full of resolve and courage. 

That was yesterday's first tragedy.

Then, last night, I didn't answer my cell phone when it rang during a Personnel Committee meeting...but did notice that the call was from the kids' school. After the meeting, I listened to the automated message from the principal. 

He was calling to let the parents know that the school had gone into "lock-down" during the day...and it was not a drill. A "strange man" had been reported on campus. He assured parents, in his is message, that within minutes the school was completely locked-down and the CMPD was quick to arrive. 

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I started shaking and getting angry, having come face to face with the reality that such "real" lock-downs are part of my children's lives (It ended up that it was just an electrician working behind the school, who had failed to sign in at the office when he arrived.). 

When I got home, Cliff had received the same message on his phone. We asked the kids about it. "Yeah...I got over in the corner, on the floor like this. Then there were too many of us in one place, so we crawled with Mrs. McDonald to another corner and kept our heads covered (poor teacher, a death and then a threat to her students...this is not why she went into teaching.). 

That was the second tragedy.

So, when it came time for the kids to go to bed last night, and blankie was nowhere to be found (the third tragedy), we were all just stunned. Yes, Henry is old enough to not carry his blanket everywhere...but, why, on this day, with all of the other hard things, did he have to lose it?! 

Too much reality in one day. Too many endings.

So, last night, just before she closed her eyes Lucy (the comfort-giver) came up with a plan...If I would go buy some fabric today, she'll make Henry a new blankie. And right now, even as I type, dear reader, the baby blue fuzzy fabric and backing are spinning in the washing machine, soon to be moved to the dryer, so that it will be ready to be cut out and sewn together when the rest of the Ilderton brood return home from karate. 

It will not be a pretty blanket...I assure you. 

But it will be beautiful, and will return some sense of control to the reality that such control is only an illusion. 

Someday, the level of comfort will be beyond Lucy's ability to give it...but not today.

For the Sundays of Advent, I'm preaching on the assigned passages from Isaiah. This coming Sunday's (Isaiah 11:1-10), is about life springing up in surprising places (like from an old dead tree stump). 

Don't get me wrong. I do not live under the illusion that a homemade blanket will bring life where there is none...but following the death of a classmate and the reality of elementary school lock-downs, a fuzzy love blanket, is pretty life-bringing. 

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