Meditation of the Week 02-13-07

Once again, the Meditation I prepared for this week has been set aside to make way for the words that are waiting to come forth. I never fail to be surprised with this happens – when I think there is something important to say on a certain subject, but the Universe has totally different ideas and wants me to address an entirely different topic…

There is a cloud of silence hanging low over our valley this morning. It is grey and rings with echoes of gunshots resonating throughout. It is a silence that is laced with sadness, questioning and disbelief. It is as though some large, unforeseen force has draped us in a blanket of mournful glumness.

Utah prides itself on being a paragon of pristine lifestyles, a land absent of violence and the usual crimes that seemingly sweep across this land without heed. Heck! Some wise person even created – and got it approved – our state motto as being “Life Elevated.”

So, when tragedy is visited upon our little city, it strikes deep and it strikes fierce. Our news-anchors still seem to be human. They are not unfortunate enough – or perhaps fortunate enough, depending on how one looks at it – to live in an area where reporting on murder is not an every day occurrence. They have not yet adopted the hardened visage of the other, more seasoned anchors that have the inconvenience of living in more dangerous places.

How does one comprehend the seemingly irrational events of last night? Five people lay dead now after an eighteen year old young man calmly opened fire in a local, ritzy shopping mall. I am certain that none of those people feared for their lives as they walked through the doors of that mall to peruse the wares or maybe to socialize with friends gathering there. It is a classy place, not one known for being a danger zone. Why would they fear?

They wouldn’t.

And that is what is so sad. Slowly, but surely, our areas of perceived safety are systematically being stripped from us. Children are being taken off school buses, out of their very bedrooms and from playgrounds. People are being killed in their places of employment, in their places of worship and in their places of relaxation.

What is happening to our world?

I feel for the people in our little valley today. The rippling repercussions of this young man’s actions will be far reaching. Of that I am certain. The young man who opened fire on innocents, with an as-of-yet-unclear motive, was shot down by police officers in an effort to stop the carnage. The people that died were parents, possibly even grandparents. They were children and siblings, lovers and friends of people who were waiting for them to come home from their shopping sprees. Even the shooter was someone’s son, grandson, friend and, possibly, lover. There are people all over our state this morning, and possibly even beyond our state lines, that are grieving the loss of someone they loved. There are many people crying out to the gods today, “Why? Why!”

Yes, indeed. Why?

It is not a question that can be answered with a trite quip like, “It was God’s will,” or “They are in a better place now,” or “Everything happens for a reason.” Those people affected by the events of last night don’t want to be fed any of those lines of garbage. They want firm, concrete answers for questions that are unanswerable. I imagine it has shaken the faith of even the most steadfast believers.

I can’t imagine the sadness or darkness that the young man must have been walking in that made it possible for him to aim at and fire upon strangers. I can’t imagine what he must have been thinking or if, maybe, he had been convinced that it was something he had to do. I can’t imagine the grief of his parents in this moment. I can’t imagine the feeling in their bellies as they ponder their own version of that unanswerable question, “Why? Dear God! Why?”

My heart aches for everyone that lost someone special to them last night in that awful incident. I weep for their aching and their grief and their seeking of answers for questions that can never be answered. If you were touched by the violent and seemingly careless act, if you lost someone last night in that moment, I hold you in my heart. What more can I do? What more can I say? There is nothing. I am so sorry for your loss.

I stand quiet in this moment, head hung low and tears on my cheeks as I reach inside to make sense of it for myself. I cannot. There is no sense to be made from a senseless act.

There is only that silence. Grey silence, still and oppressive. And, oh, so sad.

©Angie K. Millgate 2/13/07