I teach kindergarten. Which is to say I teach precious, innocent, lively four and five year olds. And you would not believe how much these children at this tender age KNEW about the horrific tragedy of the past few days in Moncton, N.B. They knew so much: the killer’s name, how many R.C.M.P. officers died, how many were wounded, where the killer had been, what he said when he’d been caught.

They also had a few facts that sounded a little strange as well; since our power was off at home this morning (and never came on prior to school), I was unable to verify whether these “other” stories were fact or fiction. But overall, I was actually blown away with what they knew. And with this new knowledge they’d acquired, there was definitely a feeling of heightened tension in the air: tension visible in spite of the fact that things are now considered safe for us all in light of the capture of the killer. Safe for us now in spite of our physical and emotional distant proximity from the actual scene of the horror.

Since the chatter started as soon as they came in the classroom, I began asking the children to save their questions until we could all be together on our communal gathering spot, our worn, blue rug. The less informal chitchat, the better in these situations. When we did finally broach the topic, there were equal expressions of relief and sadness for the fallout. These expressions came out when we talked about how we were feeling, something we always do at the start of a brand new school day, today’s routine being no different than any other morning. And as we talked, several children expressed deep grief for the fallen heroes, the three men who died in action two evenings ago.

I was so touched by their sensitivity.

And as I watched the concern wash across their faces, I was reminded yet again how important it is to create positive connections with those in authority beginning even at this very young age.  Especially at this critical point in their lives- the beginning of their formal education. The opinions we form of those in uniform who work for our benefit begin when we are young matter.  And they can be far-reaching. These days are both impressionable and significant. And as such, I use every opportunity I can find to make local police officers and firefighters visible to my young students. Thankfully, this has been made easier with the fact that for the last number of years, students in my class have had a parent who is a Member. Or at the very least, a close connection to one. The visibility of those in uniform to my students has been pivotal in making permanent positive associations with police officers and the like.

Like many young children their age, my students think R.C.M.P. are like superheroes.  Capable of preforming amazing feats that defy ordinary human capabilities.  I guess you could say they are not too far off the mark with that one.  The R.C.M.P. officers I know are pretty amazing people.  And the events of the past few days only confirm this fact for me.

But in spite of my students awe and wonder, it’s still hard to know what to say to young children when scary things happen so close to home. My students had family members and friends in the cordoned off area where the search had been conducted. I wanted to say something to counter the fear and paranoia. So that the lasting impression wasn’t “what if this ever happened again” but rather “how then, shall we now live?”.

In the split second in which I was trying to form my words, thinking on the spot with wondering little faces turned towards me , I remembered a blog article I had read recently by Glennon Melton at Momastery in which she talked about how we can counter the negativity and evil we come in contact with in our daily lives. This is what she said:

I’ve learned that we cannot change the fact that fear will be released into the world again and again- but we DO have the power to convert that fear into love. As it flows into us, we must CHANGE it before we allow it to flow back out to others. We must interrupt the flow. We have that power. And that’s my favorite kind of conversion – Fear to Love.

Isn’t that powerful?

We can reverse the flow.

And it can begin right now, even in the shadow of the past nights horrors. Even in the light of the coming sadness for families who will grieve their losses. Even in spite of the fact that innocence has been lost. In spite of great tragedy. We can reverse the flow.

So here’s what I said. I told the children we were no longer going to focus on the details of the event that would weigh us down. We were going to turn our sadness into appreciation. Into gratitude. We were going to reverse the flow of fear into an outpouring of love. And we would do this by first making sure that if we saw a police officer or R.C.M.P. member this weekend out and about, we would take the time to thank them. And tell them how much we appreciate their service.

Just a very simple, basic way to start the process of interrupting and reversing the flow.

Everywhere- from one tip of Canada to the other, I am hearing stories of people interrupting the flow. People who are reaching out to officers and thanking them in restaurants and other public places. People leaving flowers and chocolates and baked goods at police stations the Maritimes over. People covering social media and news print with thank-you ads and words of appreciation. One little guy somewhere apparently even drew a picture for an officer and handed it to him, bringing a wave of emotion to that officer who then shared it with staff members back at the station.

All this done in a concerted effort to interrupt the flow and set it on a new directional course, thus bringing good from evil. Making joy out of great sorrow. Incredible stuff.  So profound, yet so very simple and natural when it comes to actually doing it.

Although interruptions don’t always return us to where we began, they do ensure that someone SOMEWHERE will be changed because of them. Kindness has that power to influence perspectives. And if even one of the young children I learn alongside is positively affected towards greater appreciation and a lifetime of respect towards our men and women in uniform, then that one life was worth the work of initiating the INTERRUPTION process.

That one life, that one little soul: they were worth the time and effort it took to positively influence them. It’s the power of one. It starts small, but the ripple effect is tremendous and far-reaching.

May we never forget that we have the ability to interrupt the flow.