As I write this, tears are pouring down my face.
Just this morning, I held my 7-year-old son, Lucas, in my arms and began to pray.
I prayed over his school, over every child walking into a classroom today, and over schools around the world.
Now, I sit here broken. Shattered.
Grieving yet another senseless, tragic loss of innocent lives.
My heart aches for the parents whose arms are now empty.
For the children who will never come home.
For the classmates who will carry this trauma in their tiny hearts for years to come.
And yet… even as the tears fall, I feel a holy fire rising within me.
A rage of gentleness.
A refusal to back down.
A call to keep praying, keep covering, and keep speaking life over our children.
Because they deserve to live. To grow. To be safe.
And we will never stop fighting for that.
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