Our growing family used to attend Geneva Presbyterian in Laguna Hills. It was close to our home and we felt comfortable with the friendly environment that helped answer the mysteries of life that we sought. During that time the church sponsored a dinner program that brought young kids and families together. I volunteered as part of the clean-up crew in the kitchen. Every dirty plate reminded us a child had eaten.
This morning every news media in the country is parked along the roadside of this church filled with reporters and satellite dishes. Yellow tape surrounds the building warning, Sheriff’s Line – Do Not Cross.” Yesterday, five members were shot by a lone gunman. One member has already died. Ironically, this happened during a lunch service, perhaps the same kind of program that offered the spiritual nourishment I once hungered for.
I believe every slice of life is a lesson to be learned. However, I’m not yet sure what this lesson taught. Perhaps I will never understand. I drove to the church this morning and stood outside the yellow tape on the warm sidewalk. I’m not sure my presence altered the universe, but something inside beckoned me to be there.
In remembrance of the deadly shooting at Geneva Presbyterian church in Laguna Hills, California. May 15, 2022.