I sat down with the PE teacher just before the final bell would ring for the day. He said something and at the time I heard every word he spoke, but all I remembered as I walked away was Paris, attacks, dead. My heart immediately sank into my stomach. Paris is not "my city" the way San Francisco is. It is not a place I've ever lived. And yet, it may as well have been San Francisco, Los Angeles, or even the town in which I live. A part of me has always connected with Paris, with France. And, I have passed that along to my children. Paris, my beloved city was under attack. As I kept the technology lab open after school, I alternated between completing some work that needed doing and checking news sources. I tried to hold back tears, but I sat and wept quietly as students worked on nearby computers. As they left near the closing of the lab, I spoke softly. "Pray for Paris tonight. You'll surely see the news when you arrive home, but for now know that something bad happened there tonight and the people need our prayers." My students left, I gathered my things, and I headed out to my car. I skipped all music and went straight to NPR. I heard a combination of previously recorded interviews and unfolding news. I sobbed on the drive home. My heart felt broken. I wondered about people I once knew. I felt an overwhelming empathy for those I never knew, but heard only on these radio reports. Thoughts flooded my mind in French and English both. I called my parents. Thankfully, my kids were home and watching cartoons. The news broadcasts and "regular" channels would not come across our television set that night. In fact, we've watched no television news broadcasts at all throughout the weekend. Yes, I am strategically sheltering my children, even if only for a moment.

I changed my Facebook profile picture multiple times throughout the weekend. With whatever felt right in the moment. Others changed their profile pictures as well. It was an attempt at acting in solidarity with other humans. I am far from the only one with a strong connection in my heart to the beautiful city. It has been 20 years since I visited there. It has been over 15 years since I last spoke to one of my dear friends from my teen years. And yet, my connection feels strong even still, at least in my heart. And, that's ok. I have friends who have visited the city within recent years, family who was there in recent months, and a friend who was there just two weeks ago. Sometimes, I dream in French. Sometimes, I start counting in Spanish and suddenly it turns to French. My brain gets confused and somehow finds its way back to the language I love and have loved much of my life.

I took my first French class in seventh grade. I took my last French class in college. It was the high school French classes that impacted me. My aunt made a deal with me that if I got good grades throughout my high school career in my French classes, then she would send me to France after graduation. As it turned out, I traveled to France by myself after graduation thanks to her gift to me that was the result of my hard work. It is a country I love and long to one day return to and visit again. This is the love I mentioned above that I have passed along to my children. My daughter dreams of visiting Paris. She has a poster hanging in her room of the Eiffel Tower with Le Petit Parisien across the top. She is my little Parisien. Months ago, we started making real plans for this trip that we will take. Yes, we will take it. It will happen. I look into her eyes and I know that it can, it will, it must happen.

Throughout social media, people came together even if only for a moment Friday night. For a moment, it seemed we were one. We were human. We were loving. And then posts crept in shattering that moment.

Some used the terrorist attacks in Paris to proclaim the need to build a wall along the border between the United States and Mexico. Some attacked Muslims without regard for the fact that not all Muslims are radical and affiliated with ISIS anymore than all Christians being associate with hate groups identifying themselves as Christians. And then some started passing judgment on how others expressed themselves in the wake of these attacks. Comments about profile pictures, using French, feeling "more" for what happened in France than other places in the world. We "should" do more. We "should" do it differently. We "should" this, that, and the other thing. And yet, really, all we should do is be who we are, feel what we feel, and love. One post said that prayer won't do anything so we need to bomb people into oblivion.

I turn to Martin Luther King, Jr.
The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral,
begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy.
Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it.
Through violence you may murder the liar,
but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth.
Through violence you may murder the hater,
but you do not murder hate.
In fact, violence merely increases hate.
So it goes.
Returning violence for violence multiplies violence,
adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.
Darkness cannot drive out darkness:
only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

Those are the words that rang through my head all weekend.
"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

I may not agree with some of the people posting who are angry. I know that there are people who believe that that bombs are the answer. I don't agree with them, but I recognize that they need to express themselves and what they are feeling. I would hope that we can find more love in the world. We are all feeling versions of brokenness and fear right now. It would be wonderful if we could come together and grab back that brief moment of solidarity. Christians, Jews, Muslims, atheists, agnostics, Hindus, Buddhists....Americans, Japanese, French, Germans, Syrians, British...

I will continue to teach my children kindness, love, light. And, one day we will visit La Ville Lumiere, the City of Light. And we will let our light shine.

This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine
Let it shine,
Let it shine,
Let it shine.

I sobbed as I heard accounts of the little boy's lifeless body with his typical toddler velcro shoes, Syrian refugee who died escaping with his family. I cry for the hundreds and thousands around the world who are living in fear, losing their lives, risking their lives both by fleeing countries and by going about their day-to-day business. The one American confirmed killed in Paris on Friday night was a alumna of the high school I attended. I just attended my 20-year high school reunion. She will never have such an opportunity. She was following her dreams, living her dream. There is a lot of pain the world. And tonight, I looked into my daughter's eyes and it melted away. For a moment.

I read a poem for the first time ever today. And it has turned up multiple places. Written by Warsan Shire:

later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?

it answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.

From "Let There be Peace on Earth"

Let peace begin with me
Let this be the moment now.
With every step I take
Let this be my solemn vow.
To take each moment
And live each moment
With peace eternally.
Let there be peace on earth,
And let it begin with me.

And finally, a promise. The terrorists will not win. I promise to take my young daughter to see her beloved city. I promise to look into her eyes more and allow peace into our hearts more. I promise to do my very best to let peace begin with me, with her, with my son...in our home. Let there be peace, and love, and joy.