It's the End of the World As We Know It...Or Not?

According to the Mayans, our world is supposed to end on 12/21/12.  Many "experts" have debunked this theory in many different ways.  My personal favorite "expert debunking" is the one that points out that the Mayans didn't take into account Leap Years.  It makes sense to me that their calendar would be off from our's since we use the Leap Year system and they, having not had access to the Roman (that's the one we use, right? Suddenly, I'm not sure...) calendar as we have, did not.  I am bummed that I missed out on the levitating that we are (were?) supposed to do on 12/21/12 - if it already happened, I must have slept right through it and that is just plain sad because I really would like to know what it feels like to float freely above my bed.

My other favorite theory about the Mayans is my own (who would have guessed, right?): I think that what really happened is the guy who was banging away on those stone tablets either just got sick of it and decided to be done or he keeled over and died where he was and no one else wanted the job.  Combined with the idea that the Mayans couldn't conceive of the world lasting longer than 2012 and no one else wanting the job, they just decided to make it end on 12/21/12.  To me this is the most plausible (if unresearched) explanation of the Mayan calendar ending on Friday.

If one looks at the Biblical prophecies regarding the End of Times and then looks at the world's current events, it is hard to argue that we may not be going into the time of the Apocalypse - the wars, the famines, the unrest in the Middle East, the hurricanes, almost daily earthquakes, Barack Obama in the White House, etc. (maybe some of you don't believe he's the anti-Christ, but the jury is still out on that with some) - all seem to fall in line with the Biblical Prophecies regarding the end times.  While I believe completely in the Bible, my inner voice always seems to repeat "No one but God knows the time of the end" whenever I hear a lot of people (or even just one or two who manage to get press by "predicting" the end) start making a lot of noise about it being the END TIMES.  Not saying that one shouldn't always be viligant in keeping an eye on world events and one's heart close to God, but it has always struck me as a little ridiculous to worry about the (dah dah dah!) END OF TIMES.  Here's why:  It could be my last day on earth TODAY.  I could be making a batch of "crack corn" (Old Dutch Puff Corn covered in a cup of melted REAL butter mixed with brown sugar, corn syrup, molasses - my own addition along with cinnamon and ground cloves - and baked; absolutely addictive and yummy) and drinking my favorite Dunkin' Donuts coffee and my heart, upon realizing that I am going to being ingesting many cups of butter between now and the end of year, could just give out, making today my very own apocalypse.

My point here isn't to be heretical or blasphemous, but rather to say this:  No matter what the Mayans say or any of the others attempting to predict the exact time of the world's end, we all need to live every day like it could be our last day.  And, for those of us who are Christians, in living every day like it is our last, it is very important to make sure that we are also keeping our faith in God and staying close to him.  Because even if those who study the Apocalyptic Prophecies are correct and we actually are going into the Time of Trouble before the End, what do we really have to fear?  If God is with us, what do we have to fear?  That doesn't mean that nothing bad will ever happen to us and we'll be living in some sort of bubble of protection that keeps us from all pain and sadness as long as we're "good enough." Because if that were the case, none of us could ever be "good enough." There is evil and sickness of the mind afflicting our world, and because there is evil, bad things will happen.  But we cannot allow those events and actions of others, no matter how bad they may be, affect our faith in God.  We cannot understand the whole picture because we cannot see the whole picture as he can, nor can we understand the whys of most events. But we can allow events like what happened last week at Sandy Hook elementary remind us that our own time spent with our own kids is short and precious and no matter how much our hearts are breaking, our God's heart is breaking for his children, too.

If somehow the Mayans figured out God's time and Friday is the end of the world as we know it, I really hope that I don't sleep through the levitating in my bed part.  That just sounds like fun.

Sandy Hook Tragedy

I almost had a panic attack this morning. It isn't that unusual, truthfully, since we're almost always running late and getting the four kids out the door can be crazy, especially combined with a dose of talk radio - all those factors can make me feel the need to curl up and rock myself like the little monkeys on the videos shown in Psychology 101.  Today's feeling was different.  Today I found myself hugging my kids closer and for longer and giving them more kisses and telling them "I love you," as I sent them out the door. Especially Buttercup.  Buttercup is 6 years old. Buttercup is the same age and in the same grade of the little ones killed on Friday at Sandy Hook Elementary.

I spent Friday morning at my daughters' elementary school.  A group of parents had volunteered to prep mountains of fleece for the four third grade classes to make into blankets for some homeless shelters in St. Paul. What I had expected to take about an hour ended up taking three as we evened out edges and cut the "ties" into yards and yards of fleece.  Conversations between strangers, brought together by our kids, ranged from the silly to the deep - like conversations often do when a large group of women are tossed in together on a project.  It was a lighthearted morning with lots of laughter ending with the fleece ready for the little third graders' fingers today.  My knees are still sore from kneeling on the floor to trim the edges of numerous would-be blankets.  I chatted with the office admin  for a bit after we were finished.  She's been part of our elementary school as long as I can remember - SwimGirl started there in 2nd grade and is graduating this year, so we've had at least one child at the school for ten years now - and is probably one of the best elementary school admins I've ever known.  The school principal was also in and out - popping into our conference-room-turned-workroom to check in and chatting with parents as they moved through the office.  The school is warm, inviting and staffed by absolutely wonderful teachers, paraprofessionals and administrators; we've loved our years at "our school."

When I got home, I received a text message from SwimGirl telling me about the shooting at Sandy Hook. Instead of turning on FoxNews, I went to my laptop and checked the news online.  My heart hurt and tears filled my eyes as I read the news.  The question going through my head continually was "Why? How could anyone kill little babies like this?" which I know was the question being asked by us all.  Then the news broke about the ages of the children and I realized that they were Buttercup's age, causing the tears to flow again.  I looked at our Christmas tree and thought about how there were children who wouldn't be opening their gifts, so lovingly wrapped and placed under the tree by their parents, on Christmas morning.  My heart broke for the parents and siblings of the lost children.  Then I started thinking about the terror of the surviving children - how will they ever go back to school without fear?  Will they ever face a night where there are no nightmares to invade their slumber?  Will they forever be looking at people, wondering if that person or that person or the one standing over there is actually someone bad who wants to kill them?  How will they heal?

So, as I was sending my little girls to the bus, I caught myself clinging to them more tightly and having trouble letting them go.  I found myself almost not sending them to school today.  I know the school staff have regular emergency drills (I've participated in them as a volunteer) and procedures in place in the case of something horrible happening.  Logically, I know these things.  But my heart is another story. My heart tells me "This is a place where my kids should be safe.  But they're not safe.  Those parents thought their kids were safe at school and look what happened." So I clung to my kids a little more than usual this morning, regretting the days when I couldn't wait to see them all out the door and the house to be quiet for a few hours again.  I can't imagine the heavy quiet at the homes of the victims of Friday's tragedy.  I can't imagine a home where the anticipation of chaos isn't always hanging in the air until the chaos of my four wonderful kids invades my house.

My heart hurts for the parents and families of those poor children and the adults who died trying to protecting them.  My prayers are with them.