In Memory of Columbine

The following is true…

We were practicing cartwheels in her living room when Breaking News took over the broadcast. We ignored it for a while and continued flipping. Eventually, she asked if she could go nextdoor to jump on the trampoline with her friend. I granted her request. Out of breath, I plopped on the couch and grabbed the remote, ready to change it to Nickelodeon. There was usually something good on Nickelodeon. But before I could, they cut to live footage. I immediately started trembling. A swat team stood with their knees bent, pointing their guns at a line of teenagers who were escaping from their school building. As the authorities waved their guns, the children quickly raised their hands and pressed them to the backs of their heads. Because they didn’t know who was a victim or who was guilty, they couldn’t risk it. The view from the helicopter showed a boy’s body* laying face down on the concrete, his blood streaming into the street. And that’s when I started to cry. And I prayed.

Kids my age were murdered. Kids my age were murderers. Kids my age were care-free. Kids my age were evil. Kids my age… I was only fifteen.

We still remember you Kyle Velasquez, Daniel Rohrbough, Rachel Scott, Daniel Mauser, Matthew Ketcher, Kelly Fleming, Cassie Bernall, Steven Curnow, Lauren Townsend, John Tomlin, Isaiah Shoals, Corey Depooter, and your teacher, William “Dave” Sanders. You have changed my life in an awesome way. Please keep soaring. The breeze from your wings remind us of God’s grace.

*Dan Rohrbough was supposedly the first Columbine victim. He was holding the door open for other students when he was shot outside. He laid there for 24 hours before being moved. I always think of him on this day. He would have been 20 this year. My age

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