October 25th of 2021 started off just like any other Monday. Except it wasn’t just like any other Monday. That cold October day was where it truly all began: That was the day my happy little illusion of a picture perfect life shattered.
Snip snip, sang the sound of the stylist’s shears. I wasn’t normally the type of person to get my hair cut at a JC Penney salon on my lunchbreak — but a series of seemingly mundane events had brought me to be at that very particular place, at that very particular time on that cold October day.
“How far along are you?”, The stylist asked me politely.
At that point it was in fact polite of her to ask, since I was about 36 weeks pregnant and plainly showing.
“36 weeks,” I told her proudly, “I’m due on Thanksgiving!”
“How exciting,” she proclaimed. “Is it a boy or girl?” she asked.
“A boy,” I said fondly.
“Boys are the best” she told me, as she proceeded to chop away what was left of my long locks.
The LORD had ordained me to be in that particular place, at that particular time. Even though what had brought me there was, in fact, vanity.
A week or so prior, I had seen my good friend who was also a stylist, but not at the JC Penney. No, she was a great stylist with a very stylish studio.
In my friend’s salon chair, a few days prior, she asked me how short I wanted to go. I answered, “Very short! I want something easy and low maintenance for winter and for when Carter comes.”
“You sure?,” she warned, “Remember I could always come to your house once he’s here. Once we go that short, there’s no going back.”
Nonetheless, I insisted, so she proceeded to cut away my long locks. Suddenly, my hair was very very short. The second I peered into the depths of the mirror in the solace of my car, I instantly regretted how short I had gone. I thought, She was right, this is too short. What have I done? I don’t want to look this way for newborn pictures!
Nonetheless, I trudged off to my job managing a retail store at the local mall and I let the comments come, “Where is your hair?”
“I know, I know,” I told them, “It’s a little shorter than I meant to go but it will be so easy once the baby comes.”
In the days that followed, I spent too much time looking in the mirror and contemplating the situation of my hair. I know, I decided, When my hair was this short in college, I also had layers and bangs. If I add some of those, I’ll like what I see in the mirror more.
But as God would have it, I would not have time to reconnect with my usual hair stylist that week. In the busyness that surrounded my days as a very-pregnant workaholic, I would be left with no choice but to go out on a whim and schedule a hair appointment at the very mall where I worked.
So there I was on that cold October day, on my lunch break, getting my haircut at the JC Penney, of all places, just steps away from the very shop where I worked for so many years. I thanked the stylist, told her I’d see her around the mall. I paid my bill. I walked down the corridor — and my life changed forever.
I turned the corridor, and I saw the strangest site. A stampede of people were running toward the exit doors like a pack of wild animals in the jungle. The only thing I had ever seen in my life that even came close to this scene was something out of Lion King. It was so surreal that my brain could literally not comprehend what was going on. There was a woman in a wheelchair at the front of the pack as someone shouted, “Get the door for her!”
Someone else shouted, “Go! Go! Go!”
In my disillusionment, I could have sworn I heard a person say, “Shoot her!”
Shoot who? I thought, The woman in the wheelchair? I wondered, Is that who they were chasing? Had she stolen something? No, that couldn’t be it… most retail stores have a no chase policy —
Then, out of the herd, some kind soul, a stranger, stopped for long enough to break the spell I was in. She looked me in the eye for long enough to say, “There’s a shooter, we have to go!”
“Oh!” I proclaimed as a thousand thoughts raced through my mind all at once. I braced myself, and joined the stampede, running through those exit doors as fast as I could.
The panic raced through me as I realized I needed to survive, not only for my sake, but for the sake of my baby! This was my first experience with flight or fight mode. Little did I know, flight or fight mode would be my “new-normal” long after the dust of the shooting settled.
I thought about my haircut that had placed me out of harm’s way. God’s providence had brought me right by those exit doors and I realized, This is how I survive.
I once again found myself frozen in a state of shell shock as I watched the stampede of shoppers dissipate into a sea of thousand cars as they all rushed to their vehicles and raced away.
But my car keys were in the breakroom at my store, where I worked. I couldn’t stay in the parking lot, I felt like a setting duck! What if the shooter came out those front doors and started to pick us off out here?
Then God’s grace shone like the sun piercing through that cold day, as a kind woman called out to me through the chaos, “What’s going on?”
I looked over at this kind stranger, who was only just arriving at the mall, and very quickly calculated what my risks were of surviving in the parking lot versus trusting this kind stranger. I told her, frantically, “There’s a shooter, we have to go now. I’m pregnant, can I go with you?”
How quickly her illusion of safety had been shattered by my words! She quickly joined me in fight or flight mode and I rushed into her car while we both started driving to safety.
Once my oxygen mask was on — it was time to put on oxygen masks for my team members at work.
“I work at the mall, “ I told the kind stranger, “I need to find out if my team is okay”.
To this day, I am amazed that I was able to reach my team members over the phone; I am amazed that the phone lines were not jammed. We rendezvoused at our “meeting place” — a safe spot we had predetermined once-upon-a-time during dreary drills and seemingly silly safety-videos.
How naïve we were back then! We would watch videos of “what-to-do” in an active shooter situation and say, “That will never happen here in Idaho.”
But it was happening. All of our instincts told us to get out of that parking lot as soon as possible. This task was nearly impossible as the streets surrounding the mall were like a zoo. Still, as God’s grace would have it, we escaped from the traffic gridlock unharmed.
How right our instincts were to get out of the parking lot! On that very street, by that very parking lot, was a woman who was driving by the mall, on a seemingly ordinary Monday, only to be shot during the crossfire of the shootout between police and the active shooter. Thankfully, she survived. Nonetheless, I cannot imagine how traumatic that must have been for her to experience. Why her and why not us?
I thanked the LORD, that in His infinite wisdom and mercy, He chose to place me and my baby out of harm’s way that day. I thanked Him for placing my colleagues from work out of harm’s way. Others though, died that very day in the very corridors where we all worked together. Families’ lives were changed forever; the LORD gives and He takes away. Nonetheless, it begs the question, Why them and not us?
As I survey the world around me in the wake of my sweet baby’s death, I cannot help but notice the sea of healthy babies around me, happy with their families. I again ask, Why them and not us?
Only the LORD knows why; I cannot give answer. Why should the LORD have grace on any of us? As the familiar hymn sings, Why should I gain from His reward? I cannot give an answer. But this I know with all my heart: His wounds have paid my ransom.
Here’s what I do know: The shooting broke my spell of vanity. In the days that followed, I couldn’t care less about my hair what I saw in the mirror. I was just thankful that I was alive and so was my baby boy, Carter Matthew. I was thankful for my team members at work who had all survived. I was so thankful. It’s amazing how a tragedy can give you a newfound sense of gratitude.
Thankfulness and faith, however, cannot erase fear, anxiety, and post traumatic stress. As a wise woman once told me, the LORD does not promise to erase hard times; He promises to see us though them.
In the hours and days that followed the aftermath of the shooting, I witnessed my first glimpses of PTSD; I witnessed what would soon become my “new-normal” for many months to come. I struggled with disassociation, doing a simple task like preparing waffles and feeling the overwhelming weight of the paradox, How could carry on with something so mundane, when something so terrible had just happened?
In aftermath of the shooting, I cried myself to sleep almost every night. I jumped every time I heard a loud noise at work. Every day, I felt as if nowhere was safe and as if something terrible were about to happen. I often awoke in the middle of the night, in a panic, from a nightmare or an anxiety attack. Whenever I closed my eyes, I relived those moments from the shooting over and over again. I even relived moments I had not been present for; videos of dozens of rounds ringing out over the corridors of my workplace haunted my mindspace as if I had lived them myself. When asked, I started fibbing, telling people I had actually heard the gunshots because I was tired of people suggesting that since I had not heard the gunshots or seen anyone get shot, it couldn’t have possibly been that traumatic.
Don’t get me wrong, I was thankful to have be spared from those ghastly sights and sounds. Back at work, I comforted people in the days that followed who were not spared from those terrible events. Nonetheless, it was still traumatic for me. The last thing a person who has been traumatized should have to do is validate their trauma to someone who they are reaching out to for help, comfort, or support.
Honestly, if the shooting had been the only tribulation I faced last year, I don’t know if I would have been formally diagnosed with PTSD or anxiety. They say it only takes something worse to come along to make something else seem not so bad.
I could have never imagined a world in which I refer to the shooting as “not so bad”. At least in my truth, I would rather relive that dreadful day a hundred times over than give up my sweet Carter again.
Although my trauma in the hospital with Carter was worse than the shooting for me, this does not change the fact that the shooting was still a trauma. One trauma does not erase another trauma, it merely means more trauma.
Recently, I got my first haircut since the shooting. For the first time in my life, I got forehead bangs stating I wanted to look like “New Girl”. I wanted to do something edgy and dramatic to reflect the “before and after” I feel my life has separated into: BC & AD (Before Carter and After his Death). While I was having my hair shampooed, without warning the tingly feeling of anxiety and panic came over me like an earthquake.
I hadn’t had my haircut since that Monday, on that cold October day.
That’s when I realized I had a lot of unresolved feelings about the shooting. Feelings I had suppressed while Carter was in the NICU. Feelings I continue to suppress while grieving as I also struggle with mental health.
In the NICU, I struggled at times with delusion, denial, and toxic positivity. The shooting no longer served as a traumatic moment but as my testimony for how the LORD would deliver us from our trial. The thing is, the LORD does not promise to free us from trials in this life. However, He does promise to carry us through them.
I thought as Carter was passing away in my arms, Surely, since the LORD spared Carter’s life from the shooting at the mall, He will give us a miracle and spare Carter from death. Whereas, I should have thought, I am thankful that the LORD spared Carter from the shooting so I could enjoy him for the time we had, though it was brief. Some moms are not so blessed to carry their babies to term. Of the NICU mamas, some are not so blessed to enjoy time together at home. Though Carter’s time at home was brief, it was still time to be thankful for. The LORD gives and He takes away, blessed be the name of the LORD.
You want to know the ironic thing about the shooting? I had moved from California to Idaho to avoid danger and escape the threat of mall shootings and the like. In the twenty-something years that passed while I grew up in Southern California, a lot had changed. You couldn’t walk alone at night anymore and kids couldn’t ride their bikes without supervision. There was fear everywhere. Many shootings happened around us too close to home, literally and figuratively.
This was not the sole reason we moved to Idaho, but it was one of the reasons. Like many we sought safety and security, a quiet life in a quiet place where we could raise our children and teach them about the Bible without fear of oppression.
But God does not promise heaven on earth to believers.
As one of my new friends so wisely says in the wake of our mutual losses, “If you can’t say it’s true for the underground church in China, then it’s not really one of God’s promises.”
We can’t escape the realities of a fallen world. We cannot escape danger, death, or disease. It’s all around us. If you cannot see it, you are in denial. I was naïve and innocent once too.
While domestic violence and gang activity is terrible, there is something especially tragic about a “mass shooting” such as this one my community experienced. There is something especially tragic about a stranger opening fire into a crowd. Some said it was a miracle that only two civilians died. How quickly they say that — as if those two people who died were not living, breathing eternal souls with friends and family who grieve for them everyday! More than two lives were destroyed that day. Death is not only the enemy of the living who fear her, she is also the enemy of the unafraid who grieve her victims.
Death is also the enemy of the LORD. He is coming for her with the sword in hand,
For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive. But each in turn: Christ, the firstfruits; then, when he comes, those who belong to him. Then the end will come, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father after he has destroyed all dominion, authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death.
1 Corinthians 15:21-26
The two fatalities of the shooting were more than just a headline– they were someone just on another shift at work and someone just shopping at the mall, on an seemingly ordinary Monday. How could they have known that day would be their last? This life is but a vapor! Those of us who God spared that day, we are blessed and no more deserving than the people we lost that day.
Those of us who walked away uninjured, we are no more deserving than the injured. The victims of the shooting who lived, they are more than just a headline. A positive outcome cannot erase the trauma of awakening in the hospital with a bullet next to you on the table. Sleepless nights and desperate prayers may still haunt their peaceful dreamscapes to this very day.
I too got a small glimpse of this kind of survivor trauma. For a moment there, my family of three got our happy ending. We took Carter home from the NICU and for a second there, we were very happy. However, thankfulness cannot erase traumatic memories and pain. When we were home with Carter, I still cried all the time, a mixture of happy and sad tears. My seemingly positive outcome did not erase the weeks of fear, anxiety, and trauma I had experienced in the hallowed halls of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.
So many babies don’t make it out of the NICU. So many children don’t make it out of the PICU. So many adults don’t make it out of the ICU. So many victims of death never even make it to the hallowed halls of the hospital; they are dead on arrival. Why do some tragic stories have happy endings and others do not?
The only explanation that will lead to unfathomable peace that surpasses understanding is that The LORD knows the number of all of our days. He knew the number of Carter’s days. He knew the number of days for each person at the mall on that terrible day. Only He knows the number of our remaining days. So what are you doing with your life? Who are you living for? For yourself? For others? For God?
If there is breath in your lungs, GOD is not done with your life. Everyday is a gift undeserved. He has a plan and a purpose for you. Do you trust him with your life? Even when you do not understand?
Do you believe He will soon restore the brokenness of this world? I do —
Above all, you must understand that in the last days scoffers will come, scoffing and following their own evil desires. They will say, “Where is this ‘coming’ he promised? Ever since our ancestors died, everything goes on as it has since the beginning of creation.” But they deliberately forget that long ago by God’s word the heavens came into being and the earth was formed out of water and by water. By these waters also the world of that time was deluged and destroyed. By the same word the present heavens and earth are reserved for fire, being kept for the day of judgment and destruction of the ungodly.
But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.
But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare.
Since everything will be destroyed in this way, what kind of people ought you to be? You ought to live holy and godly lives as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming. That day will bring about the destruction of the heavens by fire, and the elements will melt in the heat. But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, where righteousness dwells.
So then, dear friends, since you are looking forward to this, make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with him. Bear in mind that our Lord’s patience means salvation, just as our dear brother Paul also wrote you with the wisdom that God gave him. He writes the same way in all his letters, speaking in them of these matters. His letters contain some things that are hard to understand, which ignorant and unstable people distort, as they do the other Scriptures, to their own destruction.
Therefore, dear friends, since you have been forewarned, be on your guard so that you may not be carried away by the error of the lawless and fall from your secure position. But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and forever! Amen.
2 Peter 3:3-18
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