Editor,

“Mommy, why is the flag at half staff?” my daughters asks as I drive her to school. I take a deep breath.

I knew this day would come; after all, it was nearly four years ago when she asked me where babies came from, to which I responded, “I’m not sure what to say to you about it. Do you mind if I find out how to tell you, then we can talk about it?” She happily accepted and I went to a seminar on how to speak to your kids about sex and love. Can I get a seminar on how to speak to your kids about massacres and hate?

Trying to find the right words to explain to my 6-year-old daughter why 49 people tragically lost their lives is not easy. How do I explain that? What do I say? Will I say too much? Will I not say enough? I talk to her about it the best way I know how, because you aren’t taught this. You aren’t prepared for this.

I tell her, like we’ve talked about, there are mostly good people in this world, but there are also bad people, people who don’t know love, and are filled with hate. Maybe they were never taught how to love, that they sometimes do bad things and that in this case one bad person hurt and killed a lot of good people. That is why the flag is at half mast, to acknowledge and pay respect to those men and women who were killed.

I tell her that what we need to learn from this is that we treat each other with kindness and love. That it doesn’t matter what clothes you wear, how you look, or who you choose to love. Boys can love boys and girls can love girls and boys and girls can love each other. We then began to sing, “All you need is love, love. Love is all you need.”

When I became a mother, I was overcome by the gravity of life and all its uncertainties and wondered how I would protect the innocence of my children.

We live in the land of the free and the home of the brave, but I don’t feel so free and what does it mean to be brave anymore? Am I brave that I send my daughter to school, even though I am fearful? She tells me they had a drill at school today and how it was so much fun because they got to hide in the kitchen and everyone had to be as quiet and still as they could. Am I brave because, as I listen to her, I try not to cry?

As I read the stories about the victims in Orlando, I cannot help but think of them as my own children. I cry as a mother, a protector, fearful for my children in this world overflowing with hate and judgement.

Love your children. Teach them love. Show them love.

Let there be love.

COURTNEY TAYLOR

Langley