Thirty-one years ago, today the unthinkable happened. At 9:01AM the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City was bombed by anti-government extremist Timothy McVeigh.
Recently we had the opportunity to visit the Oklahoma City National Memorial and Museum. 168 lives were lost in the senseless massacre on April 19, 1995. And many more lives were changed forever.
The Memorial and Museum has done an excellent job in telling the story of that day. With first-hand accounts of survivors and rescue workers and reporters, the day unfolds as a normal and beautiful spring morning. It’s chilling to walk through the exhibit and witness the devastation and heart-wrenching to listen to the painful stories of grief and loss of friends and family members of the victims.
So many images of heroic rescues and heart-breaking recoveries are displayed. Many of you will remember the iconic photo of a fire fighter cradling tiny Baylee Almon in his arms. When she was handed to him, she was still alive, but sadly she too succumbed to injuries. Chairs are placed on the grounds of the memorial for each of the victims where the Murrah Building once stood. Portions of the original structure outline the grounds of the memorial. Nearby you can see the steeple of Old St. Joseph’s Cathedral. A massive shallow pool, reflecting the clouds and the trees, adds solemn dignity to the space. Baylee Almon’s chair stands among the others as a reminder of her precious young life.
The memorial recounts the day, the rescues, the recoveries, the trials, the legal maneuvering, and how one horrific incident changed our nation forever. Security measures at Federal buildings were installed in an effort to avoid this type of tragedy from ever occurring again. But more significantly is the story of how one community and in turn one nation rallied to bring aid and comfort to those who were suffering.
A republican governor and democratic president worked together to restore order and provide healing to the city and to the nation. Religious leaders joined in ecumenical efforts to help make sense of the madness and assure that God had not abandoned us at this most desperate time. One of the most touching tales was of a volunteer who was collecting donations of shoes. The need was so great, due to the massive amount of broken glass for blocks surrounding the bombing. A man got out of his car and handed the volounteer a single pair of boots that were gently worn. As he walked away, she realized he was barefoot.
This is a lesson for today. This is a lesson for me. As a lay associate of the Sisters Most Precious Blood, I try to be a reconciling presence to others. It is our charism. I struggle with this. It’s too easy to choose sides. It’s comforting (in a perverse sort of way) to hate those with whom I disagree. We all spend too much time building walls instead of bridges.
God, enable me to be an instrument of reconciliation and healing that is so needed in our world today. Allow me to reflect your presence, your wisdom, and your abiding love. And as I reflect on the precious blood that was spilled on that fateful day, give me the strength to give my shoes to someone in need, regardless of their political persuasion or beliefs or appearance or circumstance.
Peace,
Denis
Journeying & Journaling 