A Culture in Decline

               

 

         Some years ago, our family lived in a lovely neighborhood in a Virginia suburb. We had four large bedrooms, a full finished basement, an acre lot, and it was an ideal home for homeschooling.  It also had the benefit of having been my in-laws home. When they had died in their fifties, and my husband had inherited a quarter of the home, he financed the remainder and bought his siblings out. My in-laws would have been happy to know that their grandchildren would be growing up there. This enabled us to have the space we needed to raise our family without a high mortgage.  Daniel was born while we lived in this lovely home.

                  Although we lived there for a few years, our disillusionment with the area began fairly quickly. It was a good neighborhood, but almost immediately, strange things happened, that had not been happening in the neighborhood our last house had been, even in the same county. At our new colonial, children would show up during the school day and tell us that their mother had said that if they were ever sent home from school sick that they were to come to our house, because we were the only home where someone was home during the day. We wouldn't have minded this had a prior arrangement been made, but we had no idea who these children or their parents were, and we had intended to go to a dental appointment one of those days.  We became aware of a number of homes where domestic issues were common. We also had a schizophrenic man come to the door one day claiming that "People in the neighborhood wanted him dead".  Once, a beautiful mailbox flag I had hanging beneath the mailbox was shredded, most likely with scissors.  As time passed, there were more and more feral children running through the neighborhood, seemingly without any sense or supervision.

                When Daniel was one, we bought large acreage in another part of the state, built a smaller home than we had in the suburbs, and moved. We wanted the children to have the opportunity to have livestock, and to gather skills that are most often learned in rural environments.  We also wished to head off their becoming good consumers, which had already been happening.

                 Our children thrived both academically and socially in an intensely rural environment, and I know we did the right thing.

                 Tonight I am sad to learn that in the very same neighborhood with the beautiful colonial where we once lived, that there has been a mass shooting. According to police, there was a party where there was a fight. Police were called, but while they were en route someone was shot. Many were shot and at least one has died. At least four different weapons were fired during this altercation.  Someone was killed on the very same road in which my children rode their bikes when fairly young.

                 The problem is not firearms, just as collecting all the steak knives, hammers and tire irons wouldn't change it. The problem is a culture in decline. The problem is that no one is home to raise children. Mothers are working, parents are divorcing, and day care centers can't be parents to children.  Children are growing up to have no acquisition of empathy, and are connected only to a violent and vicious peer group collective via phones or computers. The culture is annoyed by children, doesn't understand them, and does not defer pleasure to do what is right for them.  We saw this at the end of the nineties, and the shootings are simply a symptom of it.

                  Please pray for our nation and particularly for its children.