Vulnerable

I'm writing this post because I need to process this experience, and writing is a good way to do that.  Writing publicly just means that maybe you can relate in some way and know you aren't alone.  

As anyone who knows me is aware, I have an odd "happy place."  I have many happy places, but one of them is one that most people can't figure out and don't understand.  

The Mall of America.  

If anyone had asked this California girl ten years ago if she would end up at the largest mall in the United States almost weekly, she would have laughed.  Or just thought you didn't actually know me at all.  First of all, anyone who knows me knows that shopping is not my happy place.  At all.  So a mall seems way out of place.  But this mall is different.  It is huge.  And it is warm, sunny (due to skylighted ceiling), and they have thousands of live plants all year round.  To someone who misses sunshine and warmth and plants in the winter, it is actually easy to see why I like it.  Not to mention that most people go over school breaks, holidays or nights/weekends.  Those are the absolute worst times to go to the mall.  I go on a Wednesday or Thursday around 10 am.  And its just me, a few random tourists, some other moms and lots of senior walkers.  And I love it.  We also have memberships to the aquarium and Crayola Experience, which are both in the mall.  (It also has an amusement park...it really is huge.)  

A few months ago I even asked Ben, "Is it strange that this place makes me feel warm and fuzzy and so comfortable?"  He said no.  Most people who I tell that to say yes, it is strange.  I'm glad I'm not too strange for him =)

Anyway.  

About two weeks ago, a horrific event took place there.  It has been in national news, so you have probably heard about it.  But a young boy was thrown from a third floor balcony by an unstable individual who was angry and took it out on this innocent bystander/child.  Thankfully the boy did not die, and looks to have no lasting brain damage.  He has a long road of recovery but things are miraculously healing.  

When it happened, I was, of course, shocked and felt sick.  I was highly aware of how easily it could have been Asher.  However, as details of the story were revealed, the reality of how easily it could have been us set in.  

The mom was meeting another mom and hanging out near Rainforest Cafe.  We hang out right in front of Rainforest Cafe to look at the alligator.  A stranger came close and they had a brief interaction.  I interact with strangers at the mall and even encourage Asher to be friendly and say hi to our "mall friends."  Her son wasn't being guarded super closely and was walking freely beside them. I let Asher walk next to the stroller or even run on ahead, since its so empty.  

A few days after it happened, I had a pre-scheduled outing at Crayola Experience.  It is right next to Rainforest Cafe.  Looking back, had I not had that pre-scheduled event planned, I probably wouldn't have gone.  But I did.  And there were security guards everywhere.  I had walked in and not even realized that it was right there where it happened.  Somehow it slipped my mind.  All the sudden I could picture it happening.  I stopped by the railing and looked over the edge.  My stomach dropped as I realized how far three levels really is.  I saw down by the escalator that people had stacked up stuffed animals and signs, right where the boy landed.  I remembered the eye-witness accounts of the mother screaming and felt like it was happening.  

I felt sick.  And I felt this unfamiliar wave of feelings wash over me. I brushed it aside and put on a smile and moved on.   

I was able to enjoy the outing, but it kept niggling at the back of my mind.  As the last few weeks have unfolded with normal life, I just can't get it out of my head.  I've read updates, watched it become national news, saw the fundraising site explode with donations and well-wishes.  And I still couldn't get past it.  That unfamiliar feeling kept growing stronger.  

One night laying in bed, I had what I'll describe as a mini panic attack.  The past few months had held many rough things including a friend of mine dying in a tragic accident, this incident and the bombings of churches in Sri Lanka.   My mind spiraled downward and I felt sick and anxious.  I realized how little control I have over life and how some place that seemed so safe can quickly become unsafe.  It doesn't matter how cautious I am, something can still happen.  And we have been so blessed to not experience some of these heart-wrenching tragedies so I began thinking of all the ways we "have it coming."  

It was a scary feeling.  I have not struggled with anxiety in the past.  I mean, I had some anxious thoughts before job interviews or anticipating a challenging conversation.  But not anxiety over every day life, or anxiety that actually affects me over a greater span of time.  

I had been telling myself that everything would be fine.  That this was a total tragedy that wasn't likely to happen again.  The mall was still safe.  God was with me.  I would be able to handle it because I'm strong and I know the difference between rational and irrational thinking.  

But I was glossing over the fact that I'm not actually fine.  I'm shaken.  I'm fragile.  A safe place for me was violated.  I feel icky and anxious about going back.  I grieve for that mom as I can only imagine the thoughts and feelings she went through in those moments.  I replay hypothetical scenarios in my mind and think through what I would do or how I would respond.  I have become hyper-alert to anyone who feels the least bit suspicious.  

Today was a typical cloudy Thursday where we would usually hit up the aquarium or Crayola Experience, both of which are at the mall.  We would walk, grab a snack, sit and people watch or play at the LEGO store.  Asher is blissfully unaware and just wants to go see the sharks.  I want to go back.  I want it to all be okay.  But there was a pit in my stomach, not sure how it would feel going back.  Being there in that space that was no longer my happy place.  

I took a deep breath and made the decision to go.  I texted Ben about it and he gave me some encouraging words, including this line from a song... "Trust the heart of Jesus"

Another verse to that song (Jesus Knows Thy Sorrow) says: 

Jesus knows thy conflict,

Hears thy burdened sigh;

When thy heart is wounded,

Hears thy plaintive cry:

He thy soul will strengthen,

Overcome thy fears;

He will send thee comfort,

Wipe away thy tears. 

And on the way there, I prayed and listened to a new song I just downloaded this week by a friend of mine, Ry Cox:  

"Spirit be my strength and be my song...Holy Lord, flood my heart and make your presence known... be my shield this day."  ("Be My Shield")

I felt peaceful as I entered the mall and walked over by Rainforest Cafe.  While Asher excitedly looked at the animals, I stood in that spot, aching...and I prayed and cried.  I walked the halls, and down the elevator to the first floor by where the boy landed.  I prayed and cried some more.  I stroked my sweet son's head and prayed over the walls and floors and people in that place.  I prayed the Spirit's presence and a redemption in the space...for me and for everyone else affected by the incident.  I prayed that violence would be gone far from the place and that everyone would be guarded by the Lord's shield.  

It was very healing and really the only thing that felt right to do.  We then went off to see the wonders of the aquarium...my little boys none the wiser of what was taking place in their mama's heart and mind.  

Sorry that was long.  But I needed to write it out. So if you made it this far, thanks for hearing me out.  Thanks for letting me say, I'm not alright.  I'm feeling weary and vulnerable.  Going to the mall probably won't ever be the same for me.  I don't want to be anxious or afraid, but it will always feel a little tender.  Today I am remember that the Lord is my shield, that I can trust the heart of Jesus and that I can be grounded in those Truths even when life is swirling around me, threatening to knock me off balance.  

It's okay to not be okay.  I don't have to try and rush past it.  I can press into Jesus who will hold me in the not-okay spot.  It's all I can do, really.