Today I was a mama ninja. Or maybe it was the old middle school teacher in me, buried but not gone, that instinctively ran toward the fight that broke out in the parking lot of my daughter’s school at the end of the day.  There were two boys, one bigger than the other. There were spectators, a whole group of girls and boys together, some with phones out, ready to film the fun.  There were no other adults around.  It must have been a planned scuffle. Nobody just wanders up to that isolated parking lot, home of the Nordic ski shed and auto shop.

At first,  it seemed like the boys were roughhousing, throwing mock punches.  Until one grabbed the other by the hood and threw him on the ground.  This act of violence propelled me out of the car, across the parking lot and into the crowd.

“Cut it out! Back off! Go away! Move along!” I shrieked.

Clearly, I am not very intimidating. It took long seconds and a lot of shouting on my part before the kids scattered and the fighters disappeared.

I don’t know what would have happened if I wasn’t there. Maybe not much. I am glad I was there, though.  I am glad no one was injured.

I wonder now if I could have done something differently. Earlier that morning, I had enjoyed two centering prayer sits with my weekly prayer group. We then watched a few minutes of a Fr. Keating video which talked about the spiritual senses. I was full up of silence and basking in the time spent with my centering friends. I never dreamed that just hours later I’d be shrieking like a mad woman at a bunch of teenagers in a parking lot.

I wonder what would have happened if I had wandered out of the car and been quiet, if I had stood by the boys and waited? Could silence de-escalate a fight?  At the time, it didn’t occur to me. My initial response to the violence was to unleash some loudness of my own. What would Fr. Keating have done?  Gandhi?  Mother Teresa (now St. Teresa)?  I imagine them carefully exiting their cars, breathing deeply, walking slowly, and raising their hands in peace and blessing. I can’t imagine any of them shouting like I did.

I’m not sure I will ever get there. I have a lot of inner work to do before the silence is that deep in me. Still, it’s an interesting idea. What would it mean to bring the power of prayerful quiet to scary, even violent situations? I hope I don’t encounter another fight anytime soon. If I do, though, maybe I’ll remember this and respond in a different way.  Maybe I’ll just be a prayerful mama, no ninja required.