That’s my neighborhood.
He was described as “a sweet kid”. He was a member of the
marching band.
So… why?
Although he was apprehended alive, “why” is never going to
be satisfactorily answered.
Life is not that simple.
So what does one say to the grieving parents of the two
children who died? Or the dozen or more who were wounded? And the hundreds who
are still in shock that this happened before their very eyes? And the thousands
who are caught in the repercussions of this violence?
As a preacher of the Gospel, I am supposed to have the
“words”, right?
But I don’t.
I grieve just like the rest of the community.
Twenty years ago a similar incident occurred in my home town
of Paducah, at cross-town rival Heath High School. I, and many others, assumed that
we had had “our turn”, that gun violence would leave us alone now.
Once is enough.
Not so.
Violence knows no bounds.
So what can I say? What words would bring comfort to the
grieving families? To the traumatized children? To the expectant community
still living in shock?
There are no words.
God did not call these children home.
God did not need another angel in heaven.
God did not need them more than we did.
You can believe that if it makes you feel better, but God
did not do… anything!
A thought that some find even more disturbing.
This shooting was the very embodiment of evil. Pure and
simple.
Yet I also grieve for that boy, who was apparently pushed to
the point of no return and took a handgun to school…
And I grieve for his family, who like the family of the
shooter at Heath High, sit in shocked disbelief that their son could have done
something like this.
There are no words.
Although there have been a lot of words.
A lot of “thoughts and prayers.”
Words don’t heal, and “thoughts and prayers” often ring
hollow, but it is important to somehow acknowledge another person’s grief.
I was 14 when my Dad died. He spent two weeks in a hospital
2 ½ hours from home.
I don’t remember anything that was said to me during that
time.
I don’t remember the funeral. Couldn’t tell you at this
point who the pastor was or what he said to attempt to bring comfort to a
shocked and grieving widow left with four children. It was all a blur.
And it was 40 years ago.
What I do remember from all of that is that a couple from
our home church – friends of my parents – drove the 2 ½ hours to be with us.
Again, I don’t remember what they said, but I remember they were there. And it
meant something to me.
And I will give credit to Kentucky's governor, Matt Bevin. Although I disagree with most of what he has done as governor, he showed up. He was here within hours of the shooting, and again yesterday to declare a Day of Prayer for our county.
But what I also remember from all that is that I missed the
first – and only – day of my 9th grade year because of the funeral.
And when I returned to school, no one – not my friends, fellow students,
administrators or teachers – said a word to me about my loss.
Although present, they weren’t there for me either.
I was very alone.
Except for Lou.
Lou was a short, skinny, bedraggled type with homemade
tattoos across his knuckles. He wasn’t one I would call a “friend”; he was a
classmate. I sometimes let him copy off my test papers. I had always imagined
he would wind up in jail before he graduated; I don’t know if he made it or
not.
But passing in a stairwell at school my first day back, he
said, “I heard your old man died.”
That was all.
“I hear your old man died.”
I’d never thought of my Dad as my “old man”.
But these were words I needed to hear.
It wasn’t “There’s one more angel in heaven!”
It wasn’t “He’s in a better place now.”
It wasn’t anything profound.
It was simply an acknowledgment of my loss. And at that
moment, when I was feeling very alone in the world, those were the words I
needed to hear the most.
A lot is said today about “thoughts and prayers”. It has
become expected that, after a shooting like this past week, our elected
officials take to the airwaves and send their “thoughts and prayers”. I have
written about this before.
There have been eleven incidents of gun violence on school
campuses this year.
Yes, eleven. In the month of January.
There have been 300 incidents of gun violence on school
campuses since 2013.
That’s almost one per week.
Many will argue that these politicians have the power to
stop the senseless gun violence, but all they send are meaningless “thoughts
and prayers”.
In more honest moments, short of confiscating all weapons of
any kind – which will never happen – I suspect even Congress would have a
difficult time stopping it completely.
I believe it is not a matter of law, but a matter of the
heart.
But I know from personal experience that “thoughts and
prayers” are an important part of the healing process. It is important to the
victims – the survivors, the family members, the community – to know that they
are not alone, that someone else knows of their pain.
And that you care.
*In memory of Preston
Cope and Bailey Holt.
