It rained in Littleton tonight - the tears of God fell from above.
An hour and a half had passed before I knew it tonight, and I was wet from the rain that fell from the heavens. I couldn't help but think that God was crying down upon the Columbine Memorial, right along with me. In the spirit of remembrance, this memorial has been built in Littleton, Colorado - built to pay homage to the lives of those lost on April 20, 1999, and to forever remember the events of that day. With prayers for strength of heart, I finally felt I could visit this place, and in the darkness and silence of the night, I soaked up the raw emotion of the memories of that tragic day.
It rained in Littleton tonight - the tears of God fell from above.
Tears fell from my own eyes as I read the many quotes on the wall - reflections, reactions, remembrances. So many expressions of shock and disbelief, of uncertainty and despair. Equally present were the thoughts of thankfulness - for paramedics, for fellow students, for teachers, for faith. Amidst the fear and confusion, students stood behind their faith in God, and shared that faith with others. I can't imagine how many prayers were offered during those fear-filled hours - prayers in the hallways, prayers in the library, prayers in the cafeteria. Faith was tested and affirmed that day.
It rained in Littleton tonight - the tears of God fell from above.
The stars above - so many stars above. I was in amazement that, even though the rain pelted down upon the softly lit cobblestone paths, there was a clearing in the sky that allowed the stars and moon to be seen. The memorial is so far removed from traffic and all things city that the stars could shine down without distraction. The fountains on the side of the path continuously flowed, pouring over their stone embankments, as if their grief could not be quenched.
It rained in Littleton tonight - the tears of God fell from above.
The people. Those who lost their lives that day are forever remembered in a circle of celebration. Each one has their own space, their own name carved into stone. Twelve children and one teacher. Each has their own story, their own brief history. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I read and prayed over each tribute. Parents wrote of how their child brightened their day, of how his moods were a part of life, of how she loved spending time at youth group, of his grin when catching that big fish. How does one memorialize a child? How does one capture the essence of their family member, and let the world know just how much they meant to them? I couldn't imagine that task. Families recalled how he struggled with his faith, of how she couldn't wait to get to Heaven, how he cherished the time he spent with his grandmother, how his name meant gift from God. Most poignant were the words of the children themselves - diary entries about their faith, conversations with family, poetry about how short their life might be.
It rained in Littleton tonight - the tears of God fell from above.
While the 13 stations were framed with tulips and fresh roses, the tears and fears of families were also present. Words of blame and pain are etched into the stone as well, as parents verbally lashed out at the humans behind this tragedy, at the evil they still see in the world. No amount of carved stone, no words of kindess will bring them peace quite yet. My prayer is that they, too, come to a place of forgiveness and healing. That they can someday realize God didn't abandon Columbine. That God was crying right along with those families that day.
It rained in Littleton tonight - the tears of God fell from above.
It's always a jarring moment, to walk away and bring yourself back into the reality of the world around you. As I departed from the memorial, lost in my own thoughts and emotions, I came upon the baseball diamond that is also part of the park. There it was, right there in front of me: the continuation of life. High school students hitting and catching a baseball, even at 10:30 pm. Teenagers being teenagers. The park didn't close because it was April 20th. The diamond didn't shut off its lights because it was April 20th. The kids didn't stay indoors because it was April 20th. Life continued. They found each other. There was hope.
It may have rained in Littleton tonight, yet the tears of God fell from above as a reminder to us down below of His continued presence and love.
1 comment:
I do think God felt immense sadness on that day, especially knowing this would only be the first of such mass shootings. I can't believe it was 11 years ago. It must have been very sobering to be there. On the other hand, God must have also sent legions of guardian angels to protect those there and it is amazing that only 13 people died. Both evil and mercy can sometimes be seen on the same day.
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