My brain ground to a halt on Tuesday morning of last week.

First one friend on Facebook, a guy I went to high school with, posted that he was sickened by the news.  Then another. And another. I commented on one asking, "What is going on?", but before I saw their response my phone chimed with a message from one of my best friends.  

"There was a shooting at Great Mills High School this morning.  My sister just called me."

What?  That's my high school.  Our high school.  The quiet school in southern Maryland I graduated from was suddenly all over mine and everyone phones and televisions.  How was that even possible?

Again, my brain stopped all function for a moment, but my eyes still worked.  Tears began to form, and they stayed with me all day.  As the day went on and I followed the story, the weight in my stomach got heavier and heavier.  To be honest, it hasn't gotten much lighter, almost a week later.  The moment that hit me harder than anything else was when friends who I went to school with were posting about the reunification sight at Leonardtown High School and how they were about to go get their own kids who were students at GMHS now.  

I felt like I had been punched.  When people would ask how I was doing over the next few days, that was always my answer.  "I feel like I've been punched."  My friend's children were in harms way.  It could have easily been my own.  This one was too close to home to be just another news story.

I personally believe we all have an element of "it won't happen to me" that is constantly spinning in the back of our brains.  We never expect that we will get in a car accident every time we turn the key.  That happens to someone else.  Plane crashes?  The odds are so small; at least that's what we tell ourselves as we check our bags.  School shootings?  They're awful and they need to stop, but we have all convinced ourselves that they happen "over there."  Parkland, Florida is a long ways from my home in Maryland.  According to my quick check on Google Maps, the two high schools are just over a thousand miles from each other.  It will never happen here.  That's so far away.

That gap closed Tuesday morning.  The thousand miles were gone.  Our stories are the same.  When I saw an article on CNN titled, "Parkland Survivors to Great Mills Students: 'We're Here For You' ",  I realized that the students currently at GMHS would never be the same, just like the students are Douglas and every other school what has experienced the horrific event that is a broken trust in the safety of your school.  Yes, the total number of students killed is different, and I am immensely grateful for the School Resource Officer, Blaine Gaskill, for making sure those numbers weren't closer, but the shattered security is now a shared experience for them all.  

i acknowledge that it is different for those of us alumni who are here trying to support them with tears in our eyes.  I always felt safe at Great Mills High School.  I fear they never will again, and fearing that for them is another fist to the stomach. I will never pretend that I fully know what they are going through just because I also call myself a Hornet.  I just hope those students know that the rest of the Great Mills family is here for them. 

Many of us were not able to march with them this weekend, but I hope they know just how proud of them us alumni are.  They are showing the world what Great Mills is made of.  They are marching for Jaelynn Wiley, shouting "We Are Great Mills!"  I have never been so proud to see much green and gold, and yet it still feels like a punch to the gut to know that they have to march at all.  This.  Must.  End.  

Now.
NOW.

Jaelynn Wiley, a beautiful young woman who was destined to do great things, NEEDS TO BE THE LAST.  The list of children killed in the place they go to learn and grow needs to stop growing.  The names of schools, which I saw listed on so many signs in pictures from across the country, needs to stay where is it.  It is already too long. 

On Tuesday, I sat down with my two boys, currently a 6th grader and a 4th grader, and I told them what happened.  I reminded my middle schooler of the walkout his school so recently participated in, and what that was about.  I also told them that I know it is easy to hear about these things and think that it won't happen to you.  It can, I never hope it will, but it did for their mom's school.  We had a long conversation that could be summed up as if you see something, say something.  I told them about what happened at Leonardtown High, the very school where Great Mills students were bused to be met by their families, where a possible shooting was stopped because someone said something.  The irony of that is not lost on me.  I am just grateful that Leonardtown didn't have to be listed on posters this weekend.  

To my fellow hornets, I love you all.  To the current students, you are not alone.  Stay strong.  Your generation are about to change the world in amazing ways.


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I am a proud sister of an American Airman.

This past week, I got to watch as my brother was commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant in the United States Air Force.  His lieutenant bars were pinned on his shoulder by this pregnant wife and their ten year old son as their three year old helped her daddy put his new pin on his hat.  I watched my brother proudly carry the American flag during the parade ceremony with his graduating class.  

What struck me during the festivities was how often the leaders mentioned not only the strength and determination of the soldiers they were in charge of, but each and every one of those soldier's families.   The commanders thanked their parents, spouses, children, and more for supporting their airman while they dedicated themselves to serving our country.

I want you to look at this picture.  Each of these soldiers has family at home.  Those family members may not be in uniform, but they serve mankind in incredible ways.

They are parents nervous for their child.
They are spouses trying to be both mom and dad.
They are moms running the kids to every practice and school event, trying to hold down the fort on their own.
They are dads trying to comfort their children who sometimes just want their mom.  
They are children who count down the days until they can simply get a hug from Mom or Dad.
They are siblings, like me, wondering when their brother will next be deployed, knowing everyone who will be left at home when they do.

I want to thank the military leadership that day for recognizing the sacrifices the families of these soldiers make on a day to day basis, especially the military spouses.  It takes a special kind of badass to be married to a soldier, and so many of them do it with incredible grace.  My sister-in-law drove thirteen hours to go to her husband's graduation with two kids in the car, all while about to burst pregnant, and my sister who drove with them said she didn't complain once. 

It is simply what you do.  

Thank a soldier today, and then thank their family.  While the front lines they stand on are very different, both deserve our gratitude each and every day.


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