Taken Home

Taken Home

I had written this just after the Sandy Hook Elem shooting.

When the call came, that Friday in December, Tahlia was not prepared for what she would be doing that day. 

As she arrived on the curb of the quaint elementary school the air was charged with fierce determination and the tang of fear. Once inside, the halls were quiet, though she could feel many souls around. Inside a classroom, walls covered in bright artwork and vibrant photos, she first sees her. Standing there was a beautiful child with fair hair and big blue eyes. She was hers to shepherd.

"You glow," the child proclaims, lifting her small hand in front of her freckled face. "I glow, too!" Her eyes grow wide.

"Yes. You are quite beautiful, child. Tell me, do you understand what has happened?" Tahlia asks carefully.

Her button nose scrunched as she wrung her hands, tugging at her skirt. "Teacher said we had to hide and be very quiet. We did, we did just like teacher said. Even Chase listened and he never does!" She glances at the cabinets in the back of the classroom. One door hung open.

"Child, would you like to come with me? There is someone very important who awaits your return to Him." Tahlia extends her hand and offers the small child a warm smile. The innocence this soul exudes is staggering. She will never understand the way of man. They should cherish, praise and protect the true innocence left in their world.

"God? Mommy said that when we—" She gulps. "—Die an angel would take us to God. Is my Grandma there?" Her eyes grow wet with unshed tears but she gingerly places her hand in Tahlia's.

"Yes, your heavenly Father waits for you with all your loved ones that have passed. Don’t fret my love. You will never be alone, never feel hurt or sadness." Tahlia leads them to the doors. Along the walls, papers flutter in the gentle breeze from an open door.

Bulletin boards full of Christmas party invitations, choir recital reminders, and handprint Santa’s hang in the dark passageway. Hand cut snowflakes and paper chains hang from the ceiling and over doorways. Discarded backpacks litter the floor, thrown down in a rush. Other Angels begin to join them in the hallway, walking out of various rooms, with little souls in tow. The children smile and wave at each other as they gather together.

Tahlia feels a tug at her robe. "Yes, child?" She leans her face down.

"Will my family be okay?" the small one asks with genuine concern.

Kneeling to place a hand on the child’s heart, Tahlia tells her the truth. "They will miss you dearly. They will be sad for a while but thoughts of you, of your beautiful smile, will warm their hearts. You will leave behind wonderful memories for them to hold on to and they know you will be happy in Heaven, watching over them."

Rising up again, Tahlia and her innocent lead the others out of the front doors and into Heaven where their Father waited for them with arms open wide and a love more intense than they could ever imagine.

Kris Pittman 2012©