Sunday, June 12, 6:03 a.m. NYTimes: A shooting at an Orlando nightclub has left “mass casualties,” the police said
That’s odd. It’s not like the New York Times to send incorrect news. They must be thinking about the shooting at the Plaza Live from Friday night.
I flipped the TV on the way to the kitchen to make my morning coffee. Images from a few hours earlier flashed across the screen. Apparently, the Times did have their facts straight. By the time I left for church the number killed rose to 25.
A visibly shaken deacon and I discussed what few facts we knew. Aside from the church’s air conditioning not working for the first half hour, the service began and ended without incident, and the only mention of the mass shooting came from that same deacon during the Prayers of the People.
More details emerged as the day progressed.
Fifty-three wounded.
Fifty dead (including the shooter).
The worst mass shooting in U.S. history.
All in the shadow of Walt Disney World and almost in my backyard.
Over the following hours, I dispatched texts, tweets, phone calls, and emails about the safety of family and friends, and responded in kind to those that came in asking the same of me, the whole time transfixed to the local news. Comfort came in knowing that decades old relationships still existed.
Now, at the end of the day all of my family, friends, and their progeny are all accounted for and unharmed . . . as of this writing, but I’m sure that will change as time passes. I should be relieved, but my relief is tainted with the realization that there are people out there whose loved ones won’t be coming home. In the late-night quiet moments, the gravity of yet another senseless killing weighs on me; much like layers of water-logged clothing.
Pray for Orlando.
Three words I hoped to never post regarding large scale violence in my hometown. But here we are. And the world is watching.
I’ve never really liked it here. The winters aren’t cold enough and the summer are too hot. The racism, the favoritism, small town thinking as sweet as iced tea and as damaging as saccharin makes me want to vomit. And while confronting hollow words and vacant smiles in the most unlikely places is disheartening, they make discovering meaningful and authentic relationships all the more fulfilling and treasured. But it’s my hometown. So I hope to spread good and diminish the bad.
Monday, June 13, 2:00 a.m. Do pray for Orlando. Pray for those who are brokenhearted, the left behind, the injured, the lost. Pray for the first responders who have witnessed things no human should ever see. Pray for Central Florida. My prayer is that in the midst of this searing pain people will allow themselves to feel God’s presence, experience His peace, and know that he grieves with them.
Love one another.
