“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Sirens blared. Parents were running, running, running. I rolled down my window and asked one of the many people who were standing on the sidewalk. “What is going on?”
“There was a shooting. At Arapahoe High School.”
I was on my way to Streets of SouthGlenn, just a few blocks further, to buy some handsome shirts for my singers to wear in the kids’ choir this weekend. I was directly at the intersection next to the school where authorities are now shuttling the students to find their parents. The streets you see on the news – my car was among them.
Authorities shut down the road, sending us into the surrounding neighborhoods. People were abandoning their cars to get to the school or to get away. There was palpable panic. I couldn’t find any news, anywhere.
Someone knocked on my window. “Ma’am, are you a parent? Are you okay?”
I am a parent, but not at this high school.
Oh God, be with the ones who are, the parents who are running around my car in their heels and business suits, racing to the athletic field, hoping to see the faces they know.
Right now, two parents in my community are learning that their son took a gun to school, tried to claim the lives of others, and ultimately killed himself, shattering our community once again. God, help us all.
As Mr. Rogers has so wisely said: Look for the heroes. There are always people helping people in a crisis like this one; these are the heroes.