Wednesday, April 19, 1995. I remember it so clearly... You never forget the first time your world stands still.
I was sitting in Mrs. Roth's 4th grade class, learning all the things 4th graders learn, when I suddenly was made aware of something 4th graders should never have to learn. A solemn announcement to our class revealed that something very bad had happened in Oklahoma City, about 60 miles from my small rural hometown. An explosion had happened at a building downtown - the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building- and many people had died.
My 4th grade mind could barely comprehend this news as I later stood on the playground, watching helicopters fly overhead, likely heading to the scene of the tragedy. Our recess was cut short, and my young mind was spinning. How could something like this happen? Why did innocent people die? Did I know anyone who was there? Who caused this terrible thing? Was I safe, or could something like this happen in my own town?
The world as I knew it had just changed forever in my young, innocent mind. My world - where we didn't normally even lock our doors - suddenly seemed like a dark, scary place.
It wasn't until I got home that afternoon that I sat with my family, numb, watching the news footage of the explosion on the only television in our house. Tears streamed down my face as I heard reports of people still trapped in the rubble, and I remember barely sleeping at all that night as I worried about those who were spending the night buried alive.
Thursday, the next day, was a blur. But Friday. Friday is a day I will NEVER forget.
On Friday, I had an eye doctor's appointment downtown on our small town's square. I went with my mom and sister, and while we were in the office, we learned some astonishing news... "Haven't you heard?!" the receptionist said. "They caught the man who bombed the Federal Building... and he's in our courthouse [only a few blocks away]. They are bringing him out this afternoon to transfer him, and all the news crews are here! Everyone in town will be down there..."
Of course, being so unexpectedly close to the scene, we rushed the few blocks down to our town's historic courthouse lawn. I had never seen so many people in my town in one place - not even at our annual Cherokee Strip Parade! I stood on tiptoes, not even knowing what I was looking for. After waiting for what seemed like forever, the courthouse doors flew open, and a cloud of uniformed officers led a man dressed in orange, handcuffed, and showing no emotion, as the crowd around me threw things in his direction and chanted "baby killer!"
Finally, my anger and confused emotions had a face. For the first time in my life, I felt sheer hatred. I hated this man who I did not even know. All I knew what that he had [been accused] taken innocent lives, including many children. I knew that he was the reason my world didn't feel safe anymore.
In the months that followed, I remember being glued to every news cast that unraveled the details of how the bombing had occurred and how this man who I hated had been arrested by one of our good family friends, a neighbor who was simply doing his job as a highway patrol, when he arrested the bombing suspect for unrelated offenses while driving down the interstate just outside of my hometown.
To say this event hit close to home is an understatement. Because my small, close-knit community was so intimately involved in the events following the bombing, I realized that I had witnessed history in the making.
But twenty-one years later, as we observe the tragic day on which 168 lives were tragically taken, I do not feel the hatred that I felt as a young child. I have since encountered the redeeming love of Jesus, which leads me to forgiveness. I have since witnessed an entire state coming together to display unity, compassion, and even heroism to honor the victims and rescue the survivors. I have seen the power of a broken people who have come together to rebuild something even stronger. I have run in the OKC Run to Remember, an annual marathon where thousands upon thousands of people travel from around the world each year to honor the lives that were lost and to recognize the impact of violence in our world. I have seen strangers act as family to show kindness to one another.
April 19, 1995 is a day that I will truly never forget. It is a day that my eyes were opened to the depths of humanity. I was suddenly aware of the power of hatred in our world. But I also witnessed the overcoming, sustaining power of love.
In Remembrance,
Leigh
Side note: And if you should ever find yourself in Oklahoma City, it would be well worth your time to stop by the Oklahoma City National Memorial and Museum, [https://oklahomacitynationalmemorial.org] where, "We come here to remember those who were killed, those who survived, and those changed forever. May all who leave here know the impact of violence. May this memorial offer comfort, strength, peace, hope, and serenity."
I was sitting in Mrs. Roth's 4th grade class, learning all the things 4th graders learn, when I suddenly was made aware of something 4th graders should never have to learn. A solemn announcement to our class revealed that something very bad had happened in Oklahoma City, about 60 miles from my small rural hometown. An explosion had happened at a building downtown - the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building- and many people had died.
My 4th grade mind could barely comprehend this news as I later stood on the playground, watching helicopters fly overhead, likely heading to the scene of the tragedy. Our recess was cut short, and my young mind was spinning. How could something like this happen? Why did innocent people die? Did I know anyone who was there? Who caused this terrible thing? Was I safe, or could something like this happen in my own town?
The world as I knew it had just changed forever in my young, innocent mind. My world - where we didn't normally even lock our doors - suddenly seemed like a dark, scary place.
It wasn't until I got home that afternoon that I sat with my family, numb, watching the news footage of the explosion on the only television in our house. Tears streamed down my face as I heard reports of people still trapped in the rubble, and I remember barely sleeping at all that night as I worried about those who were spending the night buried alive.
Thursday, the next day, was a blur. But Friday. Friday is a day I will NEVER forget.
On Friday, I had an eye doctor's appointment downtown on our small town's square. I went with my mom and sister, and while we were in the office, we learned some astonishing news... "Haven't you heard?!" the receptionist said. "They caught the man who bombed the Federal Building... and he's in our courthouse [only a few blocks away]. They are bringing him out this afternoon to transfer him, and all the news crews are here! Everyone in town will be down there..."
Of course, being so unexpectedly close to the scene, we rushed the few blocks down to our town's historic courthouse lawn. I had never seen so many people in my town in one place - not even at our annual Cherokee Strip Parade! I stood on tiptoes, not even knowing what I was looking for. After waiting for what seemed like forever, the courthouse doors flew open, and a cloud of uniformed officers led a man dressed in orange, handcuffed, and showing no emotion, as the crowd around me threw things in his direction and chanted "baby killer!"
Finally, my anger and confused emotions had a face. For the first time in my life, I felt sheer hatred. I hated this man who I did not even know. All I knew what that he had [been accused] taken innocent lives, including many children. I knew that he was the reason my world didn't feel safe anymore.
In the months that followed, I remember being glued to every news cast that unraveled the details of how the bombing had occurred and how this man who I hated had been arrested by one of our good family friends, a neighbor who was simply doing his job as a highway patrol, when he arrested the bombing suspect for unrelated offenses while driving down the interstate just outside of my hometown.
To say this event hit close to home is an understatement. Because my small, close-knit community was so intimately involved in the events following the bombing, I realized that I had witnessed history in the making.
But twenty-one years later, as we observe the tragic day on which 168 lives were tragically taken, I do not feel the hatred that I felt as a young child. I have since encountered the redeeming love of Jesus, which leads me to forgiveness. I have since witnessed an entire state coming together to display unity, compassion, and even heroism to honor the victims and rescue the survivors. I have seen the power of a broken people who have come together to rebuild something even stronger. I have run in the OKC Run to Remember, an annual marathon where thousands upon thousands of people travel from around the world each year to honor the lives that were lost and to recognize the impact of violence in our world. I have seen strangers act as family to show kindness to one another.
April 19, 1995 is a day that I will truly never forget. It is a day that my eyes were opened to the depths of humanity. I was suddenly aware of the power of hatred in our world. But I also witnessed the overcoming, sustaining power of love.
In Remembrance,
Leigh
Side note: And if you should ever find yourself in Oklahoma City, it would be well worth your time to stop by the Oklahoma City National Memorial and Museum, [https://oklahomacitynationalmemorial.org] where, "We come here to remember those who were killed, those who survived, and those changed forever. May all who leave here know the impact of violence. May this memorial offer comfort, strength, peace, hope, and serenity."
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