When Tragedy Strikes
Let's Choose Love Today
It's been another rough week. How's everyone doing?
We've witnessed the anniversary of 9/11, school shootings, and the murder of a public figure whose views I didn't always share but whose right to speak I respected. His death remains a tragedy regardless of our differing opinions. There has been a lot of death, destruction, and divisiveness.
I've been thinking about how differently we respond to tragedy now compared to years past.
These recent events brought me back to another tragic time, in 2016, when I was living in Orlando. In one terrible weekend, singer-songwriter Christina Grimmie was shot dead during an after-concert meet and greet.
The following night, the Pulse nightclub shooting occurred. Then we learned that a young boy was killed by an alligator while playing near the water at Disney's Seven Seas Lagoon. I wrote about that time in Unchained, my blog during that period.
Our collective response to tragedy feels fundamentally different to me now than it did back then—does it to you?
In 2016, it seemed that when terrible things happened, people came together. Now, it feels like terrible things happen, and we are driven further apart.
What I'm realizing is that it's up to us now—you and me—to do the hard internal work and to change what we can. Here's an excerpt from the essay "Let's Love Today" that I think applies to each of us right now:
When will we learn, as a society and as a culture, that we are not each other's enemies? When will we learn that mental illness is just as real as physical illness? When will we value the healing of our minds, hearts, spirits, and relationships more than we value money, prestige, power, and possessions? More than we value our own comfort?
More than we value being RIGHT?
Do me a favor, and love today. Just pick one thing that would normally bother you, one small thing in your life, and choose to sow love into it instead of hate, instead of frustration, instead of apathy or indifference—instead of divisiveness. If you don't know how to do this or what this might look like for you (that's OK, sometimes I don't know either), then ask your higher power or whatever it is you believe in to show you.
Here are the full posts from that time, if you'd like to read further: (or you can skip them, and go right to the end of this post)
Let's Love Today
June 12, 2016
"Wow! I loved that Christina Grimmie." My daughter was giving me her take on the evening's events as we made our way to the car. "I want her to be my new best friend."
We all agreed there was something quite special about the talented 22-year-old. She had a presence on stage that was open and inviting. I wanted her to be my new best friend, too.
I have a friend whose nephews make up the band Before You Exit—BYE was touring with Christina Grimmie and had a stop at a small venue in Orlando, which made for a great opportunity to support them.
I suggested we go back in and try to meet Christina, stating that this would be a great time to do so. "She's here, right now, and we know the people in charge of the concert—I can just go back in and ask them." The thought was mortifying to my daughter's teenage brain—what would she say? My son was tired, so we decided to leave. On the way home, we found Grimmie on iTunes and listened to her music.
I had written this post in my head that night, as the lights were flashing and the bass was pumping so loud beneath our seats you couldn't even hear yourself think. I was so happy for (and proud of) these young people who were unabashedly chasing their dreams. My plan was to juxtapose them with those who never do—and open up the topic of why, as a people, we're so afraid.
Things change.
We arrived home, and my phone began blowing up. I had posted my location that evening (something I almost NEVER do, BTW) and the news of a shooting was making its way around town.
I answered my concerned friend:
"Are you guys ok?"
"Yes, what is going on?"
"Sara, someone just shot Christina—they just walked up and shot her after the show."
"Oh God."
The news was just getting out, but no one had any details at that point. It must have happened as we were making our way to the car.
Tragic—senseless.
This morning, a little more than 24 hours later, I awakened to news of another incident: a mass shooting at a nightclub in downtown Orlando.
What the hell is going on?
The pain we intentionally inflict on our fellow human beings is staggering to me. This is something I will never accept or be OK with—none of us should be.
We hurt each other with the majors—weapons, airplane missiles, and the invasion of each other's bodies. And we do it with the minors, too—shaming, criticizing, and acting out in our anger and abuse. The majors create physical harm and death. The minors lead to emotional and spiritual death—a fate that is equally devastating but not quite as easily seen.
When will we learn, as a society and as a culture, that we are not each other's enemies? When will we learn that mental illness is just as real as physical illness? When will we value the healing of our minds, hearts, spirits, and relationships more than we value money, prestige, power, and possessions? More than we value our own comfort?
More than we value being RIGHT?
Do me a favor, and love today. Just pick one thing that would normally bother you, one small thing in your life, and choose to sow love into it instead of hate, instead of frustration, instead of apathy or indifference—instead of divisiveness. If you don't know how to do this or what it might look like for you (that's okay, sometimes I don't know either), then ask your higher power or whatever it is you believe in to show you.
When Tragedy Strikes
June 16, 2016
Orlando has had a tough week. There's a general malaise right now around the city. It's a mixture of shock and grief, and sadness—a lot of sadness—but I think mostly we're just trying to make sense of the senseless and come to terms with all the terrible things that have just happened in our own backyard.
It is hard to accept tragedy.
I am a Florida native—an Orlando native to be exact—a rare breed. I was born in the hospital where the shooting victims were taken last weekend. I gave birth to my children in that same hospital but in the building next door. The doctor who delivered my children was the son of the doctor who delivered me. My children are friends with the children of some of my high school classmates.
Despite its sprawling and transient nature, Orlando can be a tiny town.
If you're from here, you shop at the Publix and you stop for ice cream at the Frozen Gold on your way to (and from) New Smyrna Beach because, well, it's what you do. When something bad happens, you bring a casserole. I'll bet John Mina and his crew could use a casserole right about now.
When I left for college back in 1989, I swore I would never come back—yet, here I am.
Last week I was at the concert where Christina Grimmie was shot. I'm still wrestling with the idea that I had my kids within 10 feet of a gunman who was out to kill. I'm still wrestling with the fact that I had to sit my kids down the next morning to explain what happened at the club while we were most likely getting into our car, only to sit them down the next morning to explain what had happened at the Pulse nightclub. That is too much explaining for this mama. By the time Tuesday rolled around, I couldn't even process the death of the little boy out at Disney.
Just. No.
As a young girl, my grandfather taught me the importance of being aware of alligators. If there is water, we have to assume there might be an alligator in it. I've spent a good amount of time in and on the lakes in Central Florida. I've seen my fair share of alligators over the years. I know what to look for; I know how to be safe. My kids have dipped their toes in the waters of the Seven Seas Lagoon countless times. Even with all my years of experience and knowing what I know, I would never have anticipated a situation like the one that happened this week.
Over the past seven days, I have spent a lot of time listening to individuals and the collective community.
Everyone has an opinion, a story, a person they knew. That is good—we need to process, we need to heal, both collectively and individually. If we're being honest, most of us are probably trying to find control in the uncontrollable.
But mostly, it feels like we are coming together and rising up—as a people, as a city. I have seen leadership step into places I never knew them capable of. I have seen communities come together. I have seen religious leaders put aside differences and focus solely on the hearts of the Orlando people. This is good—this is all very good.
The resilience of the human spirit never ceases to amaze me.
This week, I've seen hope, I've seen love, I've seen grace, and I've seen peace. This is a time for sorrow, yes—but maybe it is also a time for tearing down some ideas and paradigms that don't work anymore and shifting to new ways of thinking and loving each other that might work better. As a community—as a nation.
Orlando is rising strong. This is something for which we should all be proud.
Your Turn to Choose Love
The question isn't whether more tragedies will come—they will. The question is whether we'll let them divide us further or whether we'll choose a different path.
Today, I'm asking you to join me in a simple but powerful act of resistance against the forces that seek to tear us apart. Choose one interaction, one moment, one small decision where you would normally react with frustration, judgment, or indifference. Instead, choose love.
Text that family member you've been avoiding. Smile at the cashier who seems overwhelmed. Listen—really listen—to someone whose views challenge your own. Hold the door. Say thank you. Assume good intentions.
These aren't grand gestures, but they're revolutionary acts in a world that profits from our division.
The Orlando I knew in 2016 rose strong because people chose connection over separation, understanding over judgment, love over fear. We can do this again. We must do this again.
The choice is ours, and it can start now - with you and with me.
What will you choose today?