25 years since…

It’s hard to believe it’s been 25 years since I’ve seen your smile.

25 years since your truck rumbled up our street signaling you were home.

25 years since I told you I loved you.

25 years since my innocence about the world was shattered.

Now, 25 years later, I look at my eleven-year-old daughter, now the same age I was when it happened. A part of me doesn’t want to tell her more about what actually happened to her uncle, and twelve others that day. I want to spare her sweet heart the horror of what happened to me at that same age. Every parent faces that, wanting to protect your kids and not let them witness the pain of what this life can bring. But 25 years ago, my parents and countless others, didn’t have a choice, and their kids faced unspeakable trauma, whether they were at Columbine that day or they had to tell them their sibling wouldn’t be coming home.

In 25 years, I’ve grieved, wrestled, and been seared by cynicism at times. I’ve balked at prayers of safety, wondered why He miraculously spared some lives and not others. I’ve questioned whether He really did care about me. I didn’t give up my faith though, because without Him, I didn’t see any hope the world had to offer. After losing my son 7 years ago, and again wrestling with God and His sovereignty, I finally came to a place of acceptance. I came to a place where I accepted that I won’t always understand why God gives some people miracles and not others. I accepted that I don’t know the answers, but I trust that when I get to heaven, it will make sense.

In 25 years, I’ve seen God change millions of people’s hearts because of that one day of horror, because of the beautiful stories of the precious thirteen souls that lived their lives, not perfectly, but with purpose and love and grace and humility and joy. 25 years ago evil didn’t win!

If you’d like to hear more about my story and my brother John, I’ve included links to the interviews I conducted for this 25 year anniversary.