Chalkboards and easels, pencils and toys
Desks lined up in aisles of little girls and boys.
A classroom, learning the A B C’s, two plus two equals four
But this day, all that learning didn’t matter anymore.
A girl with a bow, a boy with a grin
Children with freckles scattered on their skin.
A daughter, a brother, a grandkid, a friend
A lot of moms never thinking these titles would end.
Lego’s and the alphabet, Mrs. Soto taught them how to write a name
And then a mad-man stormed in, with destruction he came.
He shot down a daughter, a son, a wife
He shot down a child, a baby, a life.
Lessons in elementary consist of building Lego’s, catching butterflies in the sky
Lessons as a 6-year-old should never be what your friend looks like as they die.
Moms stuff a lunchbox with treats; Dads stuff a ball in a glove
Parents raise children; stuff a heart full of love.
They teach how to ride a bike, put a band-aid on a scratched up knee
What they should never have to do though, is bury their babies beneath a tree.
But there is evil in this world, a darkness that engulfs the light
There is an evil that reigns that humanity can’t fight.
The safest places are not safe, the most guarded unsecure
In the world we live of ignoring God and provoking massacre.
We denounce Him out of government, our country, and our schools
We ask that He move aside so that we can make the rules.
And then we blame Him when there’s death; but we don’t thank Him when there’s life
We don’t bless Him when there’s goodness; we just curse Him when there’s strife.
Moms are always good at preparing children for the day
With some things that don't matter, clinging to a love that will never go away.
Mothers, kiss your babies. Fathers, hold their hand.
Devastation comes unannounced, we will never understand.
At home in Newtown, a dog sits waiting at the door
He stares out the window, his tail wagging no more.
He sits by the window, lots of time he’ll spend
Waiting to welcome his very best friend
Jump up on her lap, smell her scent, steal her sock
But his owner won’t be coming home; no more leash, no more walk.
I think Jesus sat by his window this very same way
Waiting to welcome His children that awful Friday
He greeted them from His throne that December afternoon
And as they entered through the Pearly Gates, He healed all their wounds.
A classroom filled with giggles, children’s voices - the sweet sound
This same classroom turned from liveliness to a too-young burial ground.
But we hold on to the giggles, and we hold on to their love
And the promise of a Father taking care of them, above.
