In the latest issue of Rolling Stone Magazine, there is an article, The Mall Massacre, which tells the story of a troubled teenager, Robert A. Hawkins, who shot up a Nebraska mall last December, killing eight people. He then shot himself. The story is not about the mall shootings, it’s about the tragic life of a boy who grew up without love.
On the second page of the article, there is a quote that haunts my heart, even in my sleep, “From the very beginning of his life, Rob Hawkins was a throwaway kid.” I read those words and wept. I wept for Robert and for all the throwaway kids all over the world. The Black kids, the White kids, the rich kids, the poor kids, each and every throwaway kid left for dead, before they ever got a chance to live.
In April of 1999, I flew to Littleton, Colorado the day after the tragedy at Columbine High School. An ATF Agent, who was a client at the time, was called to the scene and asked if I would consider going. She felt my presence and support would be needed in the face of all those suffering in the aftermath of such terror and grief. In the five days I spent in Colorado, I learned a great deal about myself and the depth of my own beliefs.
Whether I was offering love and support to a tormented mother whose child survived or speaking with others who had come to offer their advice and assistance, it was startlingly clear to me that we were in a war zone. Our children were waging a war with fear, an enemy whose demons had morphed into something so ominous, they could not overcome or defeat them alone. They were losing the war and we were losing them. They are our children. How could we ever leave them alone to face such unspeakable, unnameable darkness? Where were we? Where did we go?
Upon my return home, I decided to write a letter to the District Attorney, Dave Thomas. I stopped by his office before leaving, after listening to him speak at a press conference. I was moved and felt a spark of hope, as he spoke about finding a deeper truth about what was happening to our children. His assistant encouraged me to write to him; she said my vision was in harmony with his and she felt he would be very interested in hearing from me.
In the letter, I wrote:
We need to find the reason why, once again, our children are choosing to die, instead of live. What pain is so unbearable that it can twist the innocent heart of a child, causing him to feel hatred and murderous rage? What essential and necessary truth were these young men missing in the foundation and structure of their lives? Why are we, as adults, responsible for both the young men who killed and their victims? Is it possible that the young men were victims of our own conscious and unconscious neglect?
Where was our love last Tuesday, and every moment leading up to it, that would have prevented such a tragedy from ever being conceived of, let alone acted upon? In the end, it has taken our most extreme response to fear — by the hands of our children — to alert us to the most undeniable truth: without fully embracing love as the foundation, structure and walk of our lives, we will not survive as a race of beings. If we refuse, this time, to accept easy answers and are willing to take responsibility for transforming a human legacy of fear into one of love, we will begin to understand that, in truth, everyone that died last Tuesday gave his or her life to save the human race.
It doesn’t matter where we live, the color of our skin or how much money we have. What matters is what is in our hearts. We all need to be nurtured and held in love. We all need to feel that the people close to us honor and respect our lives and who we are as people. We all need to know that our lives are important and filled with hope and possibility. We all need to be loved.
As I read what I wrote years ago, I hear the souls of our children asking to be heard. I hear them beseeching me to speak on their behalf. I hear them say that love will save them, will save all of us, if we would only open our eyes and bear witness to the truth of what living without love is costing the whole of humanity.
Over the past decade, we have become more and more fearful of everything — including love. Out of pain and mistrust, we have withheld love from ourselves, each other, and our children. Somewhere along the way, we chose to believe that we could give children everything, except love, and they would turn out okay; or give them nothing, including love, and they would turn out no worse than we did. Even those who get by on what we are able to give, including love, are still not getting enough. Whatever the choice, in the end, we have continued to unravel the foundational reality and stability of childhood and, in doing so, we have unleashed a darkness whose unfolding rages on, without cessation or remedy.
I could end this post on a higher, more positive note. However, I’m going to just leave it where it lays. In this way, we all have the opportunity to reflect, contemplate and envision our own responsibility and our own plan of action to transform this hellish darkness into light. And God, well, in His infinite wisdom and patience, is holding the faith and waiting for us to show up for ourselves and for each other in love.
Always in my heart,
Melana















