Day on lockdown.

Middle-of-the-night feedings are rough. They just are. But, they have to happen for the itty bitty ones. Last Friday (April 19), I was up with Claire at 3:00ish, perusing Facebook to keep myself awake. There usually isn't much of interest on Facebook at that time of day, but last Friday, there was.

A gal we know from Union lives here now, serving with the North American Mission Board and working with international students at MIT. Because the bombers from the marathon bombings had shot and killed a campus policeman on MIT's campus, she was up and updating her Facebook at 3:00 in the morning. Her updates were my first glimpse into what our day would be like.

Brad and I were both up at 6:00am, and we turned on the news to find out what was happening. I'd already gotten a text from my aunt and a Facebook message from another family member to check on me and make sure I'd seen the news. Of course, that early in the day, nobody knew much of anything, so everything was especially hyped up and intense. We knew that the bombers had -overnight- robbed a 7-11, hijacked a vehicle (but let the driver go), killed a campus policeman at MIT, and gotten into a firefight with the police.

Over the course of the next hour, we learned that the older brother had been killed, the younger brother was on the run in Watertown, the Boston PD had set up a perimeter around a section of Watertown, and the government had advised everyone in nearby neighborhoods (including ours- Brighton) to stay inside until further notice. Brad got a text from Boston College, informing students that campus was closed. Shortly after that, we learned that the T (public transportation) was shut down for the day, too.

FYI: if the T is down, Boston is down.

In a very short amount of time, a lot of stuff happened. Our phones and Facebook accounts were exploding with people who wanted to check on us. We realized that yet another day of that week would be devoted to the aftermath of the terror of the marathon bombings.

We also realized that we would be playing the waiting game for who-knew-how-long.

The flurry and activity of the morning quickly settled into a boring kind of anxiousness. Our plans for the day had been derailed, and the fact that we were being told we couldn't go outside made us antsy to get outside. You know, the whole Eden concept of really wanting what you can't have?

Brad was productive and did school work. Barbara, my mother-in-law, spent time making meals for our freezer. I took care of Bearsy and tried to find things to occupy my time. We had to take breaks from watching the news, as all the repetition was draining. Frasier to the rescue!

Of course, we did check in hourly. You can't just ignore the fact that a fugitive is on the loose and hiding out about a mile and a half away. We talked quite a bit about how our day was a great an example of how terrorism is supposed to work: your regular life is interrupted by the inability to do what is normal. Safely. While we weren't afraid, we also weren't able to be our everyday selves. Brad had some awesome insights into why we react the way we do, and why this kind of terrorism is so horrifying. And why we rally (Boston Strong, anyone?). It's an awesome post unto itself. I'm trying to get him to guest post.

Eventually, we found ourselves glued to the saga unfolding around the fugitive in the boat and the newest video footage of gunfire. The thing that really got us was that Mr. Tsarnaev had been hiding in that boat...outside of the perimeter the police had been searching all day. What a neat stroke of providence that he was spotted and reported.

The day ended in celebration; celebration that our lives could return to "normal." Some celebrated patriotism, and some- rather unkindly- celebrated vengeance. I prefer to hope that our justice system will seek justice, not vengeance. But whatever was being celebrated was being done in grand style on the Boston Common.

You know what, though? I found that my first reaction to the footage of the celebration on the Common wasn't to join in but rather to think, "I wouldn't be caught in a crowd like that for anything right now. What if another bomb goes off?" Terrorism...doing it's job. Making me think twice.

I hope that feeling fades sooner rather than later. I hope that I'm able to remember in Whom I place my trust and that I remember to live my life and model faith to my daughter. I know it will get back to normal, but I also know that you can't erase what happened.

Thankfully, we spent our day in boredom more than anxiety, and we spent our day knowing that we were being prayed for and loved. When that kind of support is in place, of whom shall we be afraid?