Thursday morning I dropped my 13-year-old son off at West Albany High School for an 8th grade visitation day.
Thursday evening, Albany police searched the home of a 17-year-old student from the same school. Officers found multiple bombs and detailed written plans of how he intended to kill fellow students and cause mass destruction. (Read the sad story).
After nine years of private Christian education, my son feels ready to enter the world…even after this horrific news. As his mother, I’m a little less certain I’m ready.
When I began writing this blog, back in 2009, I chose the title “Cannot Be Shaken.” But, I am shaken. Frequently.
Lynette Easton interviewed me a few weeks ago (you can find the interview at Infinite Suspense) and she asked me why I chose this title. At the time I began blogging, I was working on a novel about the San Francisco Earthquake, so the idea of “shaking” was heavy on my mind. In Philippians, Paul writes of how God’s voice can shake the earth, knocking loose all things that are of no consequence, so only what cannot be shaken remains (paraphrase of Philippians 12:26-27). The verses resonated in my heart, reminding me that all the trials we go through in this life point us back to the only thing that really matters—Christ.
I deeply desire my writing to reflect that concept.
West Albany High School students returned on Tuesday (after the holiday weekend) to face the fall-out of their classmate’s arrest. Since my son doesn’t start there until September, I felt a wave of relief not to be faced with the emotional turmoil of seeing my child walk back into that school. But we live in a fairly small community and I have many friends with children there. I know people who work there. I have no connections with the family of the troubled student, but I have friends who do.
We are all shaken.
I drove by the school on my way to a friend’s house, my heart anxious. News trucks lined the road. Police cars stood vigil in the bus lane. The sign out front read, “WAHS is FAMILY.” A press conference was in progress. My heart ached. God, thank you for preventing what could have been the worst day of our lives. But how do we face our fears now?
And come September… pray for me, too.
