bomb threat

Last week, unfortunately, my son’s school ended up being added to the growing list of schools where someone did something stupid.  Sorry, I don’t really care for the word “stupid.”  Yet with a faint but intentional acknowledgement of the existence of evil on this planet, a bomb threat was communicated to my son’s middle school administrators.  While the school system responded admirably indeed, I continue to stand amazed at all the disruption and distress caused by the foolish actions of one person.

 

Thankfully, the threat was nothing more than an empty call for chaos.  Most students were diverted before the busses ever arrived; the school was then searched, and no actual explosives ever materialized.  School was cancelled, as a separate building was then designated as the pickup point for all affected students.  Thank God the threat was nothing more.

 

But as the mind of the Intramuralist often feels as if it’s continuously circling, there was an additional aspect of this process that couldn’t escape my attention.  It was actually rather amazing… fairly fascinating… not really disturbing, although perhaps so to some… as I was especially struck by the actions of a few of the parents.

 

As we rushed to the school, understandably, several ran.  Several sprinted.  We were eager to swoop up our 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th graders as quickly as possible.  When we reached the pickup point, we then had to wait in line, offer proper identification, and one of the teachers would bring us our child.  I was fascinated by the frantic few who refused to wait in line.

 

When I arrived, came to a stop, waiting my turn, there was a middle-aged mom who ran up directly behind me.  She paused for a mere moment, and then uttered, “@#%&^!!  I’m not waiting in any line for my kid!”  She then swiftly maneuvered around me and all others who proceeded her, boldly barging to the front of the line.

 

Many times since I’ve thought of that woman.  She had to be at the front of the line.  It didn’t matter that the rest of us were each there for our children, that we, too, were facing similar circumstances, nor that we, too, wanted to ensure the safety of our kids.  To this mom (and a few frantic more), all else was irrelevant.

 

Obviously, her passion was pure.  She was passionate about her kid’s safety.  But it struck me how her own passion — which was beautiful and wonderful and yes, for an excellent cause — allowed her to be blind to the needs and causes of all others.

 

Was she arrogant, as some have suggested?  Maybe, but I don’t think so.  I’m not certain we can discern that via such actions.  Rather, I think she was blind.

 

How often, friends, do we allow passions — which are beautiful and wonderful and yes, for an excellent cause — to blind us to the needs, wants, emotions, and passions of other people?  Is our passion so important that all else pales in comparison? … or should pale?  Is it ok, even for those good causes, that we deem all else irrelevant or insignificant?

 

Is this not once more, an example of how intelligence and wisdom collide?  Where a passionate, excellent cause, even among the intelligent, may blind us to other valid circumstances and concerns?

 

Where are we blind?

 

Last week, unfortunately, my son’s school ended up being added to the growing list of schools where someone did something stupid.

 

Respectfully,

AR