Momma, he was my friend.

September 26, 2012 - This morning, I heard words that struck pure terror into my heart. As I arrived at my office, a friend from the nearby town of Perkins said, "Did you hear? There's been a shooting at one of the Stillwater schools."

At that time of the morning, school had just begun for my kids and they should all have been in their first hour classes - Morgan at the high school, KayLynn at the junior high, and Aaron at the middle school. My heart dropped into my stomach as my brain imagined each one of them in grave danger. I dug into my purse for my phone, only to discover I'd left it at home. My babies were in trouble, and I couldn't even call or text them to make sure they weren't hurt. It seemed like an eternity passed before I found out which school the shooting occurred at and what happened. As details trickled in, we learned that a 13-year-old male student had shot himself in the head in the 'Pit" area of the junior high. The kids were put on lockdown and then evacuated to a nearby shopping center parking lot for parents to pick up.

It was like a nightmare. Our kids were safe, but someone's child wasn't. Another mother was learning that her son had not only been shot and killed at school, but also that he was the one who pulled the trigger. Other mothers were comforting their hysterical children, all witnesses to the brutality of a gunshot wound to the head, right in the common area of their school.

When I got to see my KayLynn and talk to her this evening, she told me about her friend Cade. She says he was funny and loved to tell jokes, and that whenever someone was upset in their circle of friends, Cade was the one to cheer them up. In middle school, he was popular; kids loved his sense of humor and affectionately called him "Carrot Top" because of his curly red hair and comedy skills. I asked her if he was popular at the junior high too, since this was their first year there, and her voice changed. "Well, mom, people change when you get to jr high. He had friends, I was his friend, and all my friends were, but it's just different here," she explained. She told me how their little group had all planned to have a party at Pizza Hut this afternoon and how excited Cade was about it. She told me how he had come to Switch the week before and rededicated his life to Christ, and how he told her he couldn't wait for Switch this week. She talked about Cade's smile, his laugh, and how much fun he was to be around. "Mom, he was just really a great kid," she said, and she began to cry.

"Mom?"
"Yes, sweet girl?"
"I saw him this morning. Mom, I could see the sadness in his eyes; it was like his eyes were just full of this deep sadness that I'd never seen before. And Mom?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"I saw a bulge under his shirt. I didn't know, Mom. I didn't know it was a gun. I said hi, but he just walked away, and I didn't know he had a gun,"
"Oh, Honey, there's no way you could have known."
"But, Mom, I should have stopped him." At this, my beautiful, precious, innocent KayLynn buried her head into my shoulder and began crying, She looked up at me with tears rolling down her face and bloodshot eyes, and she said "Momma, he was my friend."

As I held my 13-yr-old baby in my lap, she cried. I didn't know how to help her, so I cried too. I looked into her little upturned, tear-streaked face and told her that she could not have stopped this, that this was not her fault, and that she was a good friend to Cade. I told her that she didn't do anything wrong, and then I just held her and we cried together.

I can't fix this. I can't take away her pain, her memories of the gunshot sound, or the way her stomach churned at the overpowering smell of blood. I can't tell her why, or promise her nothing like this will ever happen again. All I can do is cry with her and pray that God will heal us all.

Cade's mom, if you ever read this, I want you to know that I love you. I don't know you, but my daughter knew your son, and my heart breaks for your pain. Please know that just like it's not my KayLynn's fault that this happened, it's not your fault either. I can't fix this for you, but please know that I am crying with you and praying that God will comfort and heal you.

Jr High students, if you read this, I want you to know that I love you too, whether I've ever met you or not. I have a God who fills my heart with love for each and every one of you, and I'm praying that He will touch your lives and bring beauty from your pain. I don't care if you're a cool kid, a nerdy kid, a drama kid, a bully, or a pothead. When I look at you, that's not what I see. I see wonderfully made boys and girls full of potential to change the world, and I love you.

My KayLynn, when you read this, I want you to know that I love you most of all. My beautiful angel, you did nothing wrong. You couldn't have stopped this, and you don't deserve the guilt you feel. You are God's child, His masterpiece, and He will lift you through this to become the world-changer he knows you can be. When you hurt, I am here. When you remember and need to talk, I am here. When you're overwhelmed with grief and need to cry, I am here. And when you're happy, because it is absolutely ok for you to be happy, I'm here to smile and laugh with you. I will never leave you, baby girl, and more than that, God will never leave you. I love you more than all the raindrops in a cloud.

What's your number?

If you've spent extensive time at my house and with my family, you'd know exactly what it means when we say, "What's your number?"

In our house, we measure pain on a scale of one to ten. Migraine pain, back pain, headache pain, belly pain...you name it, and you better be able to give it a number. When our good family friends had a bad car accident and we had an extra son for a week or so, he made the question into a joke since it wasn't something he had ever been asked and we did have to ask him that A LOT to determine what meds he needed. Numbering our pain allows us to know when medications are needed and what kind, as well as when to be concerned or call the doctor. It also gives the person in pain some perspective on what they're feeling. When we give our pain a number, we stop focusing on how much it hurts and define limits for controlling it.

Since I get migraines often, my husband (and my kids!) have gotten really good at knowing when I have one. Apparently they can see it in my eyes, which is really frustrating for me. There are many days when I'd rather just lie and say my head doesn't hurt, simply because I get so tired of having a headache all the time. I figure if  I don't tell anyone, then it doesn't count. If I can hide the pain, then I don't really have a migraine and I'm perfectly normal. Of course, that doesn't work for very long - eventually, the pain escalates, and my body taps out. Before I know it, I've gone from a manageable 3 to a miserable 7, all because I didn't want to admit that I was hurting. Since I'm so stubborn, my family has learned to stop asking me if I have a headache when they can see the pain in my eyes, and instead they ask, "What's your number?" With that one little question, they make it clear to me that they know I'm hurting and they want to help. It's like giving me permission to be in pain and to share it with them instead of holding onto it alone.

So what if we asked "What's your number?" more often? What if, instead of just applying the question to physical pain, we also applied it to emotional pain? What if those numbers came with treatments and limits, just like our physical pain numbers? Our emotional pain is so much easier to hide, so much easier to ignore....and so much more destructive when left untreated. Even the physical signs of emotional pain are easy to ignore - we can say we're tired, or sick, or hungry, or any number of other excuses to hide the fact that our emotional pain level is so high that it's affecting us physically. We don't want to burden others with our problems, so we stuff it down and put on a smile while we die a little inside. Our hearts are crying out for someone to see, someone to care, someone to realize that we need comfort, restoration, sympathy, affection, love. 

Dear children, let's not merely say that we love each other; let us show the truth by our actions. 1 John 3:18

Who can you show the truth to today, just by asking that one little question..."What's your number?"