BY Pamela Garza

She loved life, and passed it on.

It had always been her chosen career, even when it was considered old-fashioned. Her philosophy carried her through the times of intense sacrifice, and the stupidity of 'what do you do all day?'. Children only grow up once, molding their lives was precious to her.

She considered it an honor and a challenge to make sure they never came home to an empty house, knew right from wrong, and how to take action for change and satisfaction. She protected them from the violence and nonchalance of the public school system by schooling them herself, telling them history's truth instead of sugarcoated propaganda.

In public, she protected them from possible predators, never sending them anywhere by themselves. The trip to the library that day started out to be routine. She stood next to them at the computer as they searched its banks for the books they wanted, and escorted them to the numbered aisles to find them.

From deep within the silences of library shelves, they heard when violence erupted suddenly at the entrance. She couldn't see it, but she knew the sound of semi-automatic gunfire. The horror of what only happens somewhere else had now become a local thing.

Without thought, she grabbed her children and stuffed them between the window and the end of a shelf. 'No matter what you hear, you stay until I come for you', were her instructions. She left them with the confidence of one who knew her children would obey. It was what she taught them.

She yanked on the cord of a computer monitor until it came free, and swung the entire screen at the middle of the wall of windows. She timed the blows to the gunfire and reload. She pounded and pounded on that window, desperate in her quest. The pain of strained muscles and cut hands couldn't compare to the fear for the lives of her children that seemed to bludgeon her from the inside.

On the other side of the wall of glass, a uniformed policeman saw her, risked his life to add the butt of his shotgun to her efforts. With his strength, they were through.

"Look out!" he cried.

She dropped to the floor. The gunman had turned the corner. He was coming for her. The officer stuck the barrel of his shot gun through the hole and shot. The gunman dove behind the counter. That gave her just enough time. She rushed for her children, pushed them out the glass hole, the small portal to freedom.

She, herself, didn't fit. She faced the gunman. The bullets threw her back against the glass. None on them would find her children.

While distracted, the officers brought him down. One kneeled over her, and saw it in her eyes.

Yes, she loved life, but she wasn't afraid to die.