My safe naive bubble

For the most part, I go about my day....fairly naive to the atrocities in the world. I function quite well in my little bubble. I have faith in those around me. I trust them. I believe that deep down everyone is good and everyone has good intentions. In my little bubble, no one would ever think of harming another. We all go about our days, smiling at each other as we pass by....helping each other by holding the coffee shop door open...saying thank you to the mailman. In my bubble, the world and everyone in it is good.
I know it's ridiculous to think this. I know it is not the case. I know there are more bad guys out there in the world than I am aware of. I know this to be true. I know there are tragic events that occur all the time. I know there are malicious individuals that have nothing but evil thoughts racing through their fevered minds. I'm not an idiot....I know this is the case.
After hearing of the tragedy that occured today, I cried. I cried for those parents....those families...I cried for those poor frightened innocent children. I cried. My tears will not bring them back. My tears will not ease their families pain. My tears will not accomplish anything productive. It was a natural reaction to a devastating occurance.
I am an American. I do not like guns. I am not in favor of guns nor will I ever be in favor of guns. I think it is absurd that any lunatic off the street can own a gun. Guns were designed to kill. Period. I may not be in the majority in my beliefs on this....but honestly I don't care about the majority. It is my opinion....and as an American, I am entitled to my opinion and I have the right to share it.
As 3:00 rolled around, I found myself standing on the playground at my daughter's school. I saw clusters of parents huddled together talking. I heard snippits of their conversations....guns...babies killed...travesty. I found myself looking around the playground and being leary....nervous...of the lone man standing and waiting. I stared at him....feeling a nervousness in my stomach...staring at his face trying to recall if I had seen him before. I was judging him.....judging him because of what occured today. I hate that I did that. I was ashamed of myself when I saw a child come running out of the school as the bell rang and ran towards this man...arms wide...ready to hug. I was ashamed of myself for judging him and saddened by the reality of the world around me.
I am afraid for the future world my daughter will live in. I have the typical fears.....will she achieve her goals? Will she be happy?...........I have the diabetes fears....will she live long enough to achieve her goals? Will she have complications? Will she struggle for the rest of her life or will a cure come?............and I have heartwrenching fears.......will a tragedy like today happen to her?
Will I spend my days peering out from my little bubble now.....cautiously peering....scanning the world around us for danger....fear...REAL fear? Will I spend my days always on the lookout for psychopaths carrying guns?
Or will I forget....as time passes....will I forget and revert back in to my bubble....and let the naive thoughts and feelings of goodness take over again?
I don't know. Time is a frightening thing. Time numbs us. The passing of time is a relative thing. Time will never hold the same meaning for those parents that lost their babies today. They were robbed of time this morning. A man with a gun took that from them today.
At the very base of it all.......I will never (nor would I want to) change the minds of those that are pro-gun. I will never (nor would I want to) try to make them think like me. The only thing I can do in the midst of the madness and fear and anger and devastation and heartache............is hold my child....teach her that there is no greater thing than love.....teach her that having compassion for others is ideal........teach her that acceptance is key.........teach her that while not everyone in the world is good, there is still good in the world. It's all I can do. Teach her...and hope.