I was confused. My fifth grade class was not on schedule. Instead of our normal routine, we were about to watch something on television. As my eleven-year-old mind tried to make sense of the pictures I saw, this much became clear: someone had hurt many people. A building was torn in half from bottom to top. Could it be that this was Oklahoma City?
171 lives ended that day. The memorial honors the victims with 168 empty chairs (149 adults and 19 children), plus the names of three preborn children who died with their mothers. It was, until 9/11, the deadliest terror attack in the United States.
In the days that followed my eyes saw the helpers. I saw rescue workers fighting through exhaustion to help pull people from the wreckage. I saw thousands lined up to donate blood. I saw compassion. I saw love. Continue reading “We are the times”