I was talking to a friend of mine that served a
mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Oklahoma
City and it got me thinking about my visit to that city.
My
family was driving from Utah to Tennessee to visit my grandpa and we
made a few stops along the way. It was a long haul, and we took
advantage of exploring some of the beautiful country on our drive east.
I'm not sure if I had even seen the musical, but now looking back, I
have the music from Oklahoma, the musical running through my head.
While I don't remember much from that visit, what I do remember is vividly seared into my memory.
We
went to the Oklahoma City bombing cite. As my friend said, it is sacred
ground. I remember walking with my father around the chain link fence
perimeter. I remember all the pictures of victims. I remember countless
stuffed animals and flowers and trinkets.
And I remember being
in 4th grade and hearing about the bombing. I remember our school wide
minute of silence in remembrance and recognition of the lives lost. I
remember crying. And I remember thinking about the children at the
daycare that lost their lives and thinking of my youngest brother and
how I couldn't comprehend losing him.
I'm grateful to my
parents for teaching us compassion. I'm grateful that they helped us
face challenges in life - they could have hidden scary and sad truths
and experiences from us. Instead, they taught us to pray for those who
are hurt - physically or emotionally. To honor and remember those who
are lost. And perhaps most importantly that life is a gift - we should
enjoy it, despite the sad moments. And that we can't let the terrible
actions of a few destroy our faith in humanity.
