When our hearts go walking

Shortly before I had my first child, a friend of mine–already a parent–warned me that parenthood will be ‘the best and hardest job ever.”

The best is obvious: We love our children more than we ever thought possible. Period.

It’s the “hardest” part that threw me. It’s not that I didn’t realize it’d be hard. I just figured the hardest stuff would be diapers, crabbiness, and sleep deprivation.

But now that I’m a parent, I’m in on the secret that every other parent already knows: The hardest part is that you love your children so much it actually hurts.

We pray every minute of every day that our children will be happy, healthy, and safe. I’ve half-jokingly contemplated buying helmets for my daughters, not just to wear when they ride bikes, but, rather, 24 hours a day to protect them from every bad thing ever.

Author Elizabeth Stone nailed it when she said that choosing to have a child “is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”

As hard as we try, on the Fourth of July, our community learned that we can’t shield our children from all the bad things.

In the weeks since the shooting, adults have been forced to have impossible conversations with children. We’ve had to confront questions about hate, violence, and security–even though we grownups don’t have the answers either.

Because that’s the thing. It’s not only the children in our community who lost some innocence on the Fourth of July. Along with losing seven beautiful souls, we’ve all lost peace of mind and the naïve assumption that somehow a town like Highland Park is bulletproof.

I can’t shield my children from our broken world. There are too many shattered pieces to even try. So, instead, I hope they will encounter and emulate the kind of people who dedicate themselves to piecing what’s broken back together-the “repairers” of the world-like the countless heroes who have emerged from that dreadful July morning:

Among them, strangers who scooped up a little boy-whose courageous parents died saving him-and delivered him to safety; the first responders and physicians who tended to the victims on the scene; the mayor of Highland Park, who has shown grace and strength in leading her wounded town; the local proprietors who offered those fleeing the crime scene a place of refuge, complete with games and crafts for the youngest parade-goers; the babysitters who have offered free childcare for Highland Park residents; the school bus driver who went door to door to check on his students to make sure they were okay, The list goes on and on.

It’s fitting that this issue showcases the extraordinary young adults in our community honored as this year’s 36 Under 36-young repairers themselves, who are shining light and love with every step of their journey. I hope my daughters grow up to surround themselves with people like these honorees. And most of all, I hope they blossom into repairers themselves one day.

We can’t tell our kids that there’s no bad in the world. We can’t insulate them in a bubble of innocence because we know eventually that bubble will pop.

But what we can teach them is that for every bad guy, there are countless more good ones. We can teach them that darkness is always vanquished by light. And we can teach them that hate is ultimately drowned out by love.