{"id":8899,"date":"2019-09-06T12:56:52","date_gmt":"2019-09-06T17:56:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/customwordpresssites.com\/mjb\/?p=8899"},"modified":"2026-02-26T13:40:14","modified_gmt":"2026-02-26T19:40:14","slug":"a-bad-guy-was-killing-people-a-parents-response-to-the-nightmare-of-gun-violence","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/customwordpresssites.com\/mjb\/2019\/09\/06\/a-bad-guy-was-killing-people-a-parents-response-to-the-nightmare-of-gun-violence\/","title":{"rendered":"‘A bad guy was killing people’: A parent’s response to the nightmare of gun violence"},"content":{"rendered":"

It\u2019s 3 a.m. and the moon is glowing softly through the wide bedroom window. Why am I awake? I look to the side and see that our six-month-old is sleeping soundly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"painting-learning-to-rest-in-her-rhythm\"
Original artwork by Annemarie Barrett<\/strong><\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

A repetition of the sound that woke me, \u201cMama!!\u201d, comes from the room across the hall. It\u2019s our three-year-old who, despite a strong, independent spirit, believes that a parent is needed if she is thirsty or needs the toilet that\u2019s a few steps away or if her blanket has slipped off. <\/span><\/p>\n

I pause and take a deep breath, take a drink of water and then another deep breath. \u201cDon\u2019t go in annoyed,\u201d I tell myself. \u201cYou don\u2019t know what she needs until you\u2019ve listened.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

When I go to her it takes a few minutes before I can get her to say anything besides \u201cMama,\u201d but I can see that she is in fact distressed. \u201cWas it a bad dream?\u201d I whisper. She nods. \u201cDo you want to tell me about it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere were bad guys killing people,\u201d she says in a small, still-scared voice. And suddenly, I feel a dark weight in my own stomach and my throat tightens around the words of reassurance I want to speak. <\/span><\/p>\n

My mind conjures not her nightmare, but the real-life horror I\u2019ve been hearing about on the radio the last few days. I imagine a Walmart where people \u2013 bored or excited, tired, in a hurry or casually moseying \u2013 are suddenly confronted with a rapid-fire lethal weapon that has no concept of the rich complexity of their personal stories. <\/span><\/p>\n

A bad guy is killing people.<\/span><\/p>\n

And so, I can\u2019t quite bring myself to say, \u201cDon\u2019t worry baby, everything\u2019s okay, you\u2019re totally safe.\u201d  Instead I say, \u201cI\u2019m here with you, sweetheart, it was a dream, you\u2019re surrounded by people who love you.\u201d Because things are not okay, and I don\u2019t really know what or where \u201csafe\u201d is. This has always been true, but the reality of it rests heavily on me right now. <\/span><\/p>\n

After a quick ritual of tucking-in and \u201chuggy blanket, huggy blanket, down to your toes!\u201d, my daughter drifts back to sleep and hopefully to sweet dreams of riding horses and unicorns that she reports having most mornings.<\/span><\/p>\n

I try to return to sleep myself, but the infant who\u2019s sharing a bed with me tonight is restless. Finally, I hold her close until her body relaxes and her breath evens into the rhythm of sleep. <\/span><\/p>\n

My body will not relax as my mind grinds, trying to solve an impossible problem: how do I prepare my children for an unpredictable and precarious reality while still providing them the sense of security and stability they need to thrive? How do I say, \u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d when I feel so sad and afraid?<\/span><\/p>\n

Earlier in the day, when we had to make a quick stop to purchase the rest of their school supplies, my husband stopped the car next to the store so I could run in. I wondered if he was thinking about the same thing I was; the mother who\u2019d recently run into Walmart in El Paso, Texas<\/a><\/strong>, to pick up something while she and her family were on their way to the airport. <\/span><\/p>\n

Her husband and children had waited, unknowing, in the car while she was murdered. How did they find out? Were they waiting for a long time, wondering what was keeping her? Did they get bored or annoyed? It\u2019s such a small thing to run into a store, and yet \u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

I feel the tension in my body as I step out of the car. I close the door and then open it again; popping my head in to cheerfully say, \u201cI\u2019ll be right back, my lovies!\u201d \u2014 both to reassure myself and to ensure that my possible last words to my beloved family aren\u2019t, \u201cStop fussing! I\u2019ll just be a minute!\u201d  <\/span><\/p>\n

Of course, the chances of me and my family being in any real danger are very slim. I know this. But I don\u2019t like that argument. I am not exceptional \u2014 God is not any more determined to extend supernatural protection over me and my family than over those people who died senselessly. <\/span><\/p>\n

Even if I and my loved ones don\u2019t encounter harm everything is still not okay, because others have and will and are encountering danger and hurt in so many ways. So, I am lying in bed, so tired, wanting desperately to fall asleep, and yet, how can I sleep to the sound of all this suffering? <\/span><\/p>\n

Jesus tells us many times throughout the Gospels not to worry and not to be afraid. All the while, he demonstrates through his life solidarity with the outcast and the sick; he reaches his hands out, even to the dead. I wish he would tell me what to do now.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"blue-painting-orange-flowers-poem\"
Original artwork by Annemarie Barrett<\/a><\/strong><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

Soon the alarm will sound and it will be time to ready the kids for school; to make sure they eat a nutritious meal, brush their teeth and are fully dressed before they\u2019re bundled out the door. Why am I awake? To fall asleep feels like a betrayal to those kept awake with the ache of grief or fear or the loneliness of irreconcilable loss. <\/span><\/p>\n

The sun will rise without regard for my mental state, rousing with its light three lively children and the mundane but necessary demands of the day. So, I hug the tension to me like a restless child, breathe deeply, pray for grace and accept the gift of rest.<\/span><\/p>\n

ABOUT THE RABBLE ROUSER<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"Amy Nee-Walker<\/em><\/a><\/strong> grew up in the middle of a large and lovely family in Central Florida. Living into questions about truth and love has led her to the Catholic Worker, the Catholic Church, her incredible husband, three audacious, adorable children, and (for the time being) a home in the hills of Appalachia.<\/em><\/p>\n

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‘A bad guy was killing people’: A parent’s response to the nightmare of gun violence<\/a><\/blockquote>