I went for my occasional Sunday afternoon walk/run today. Our local high school hosted a big track meet yesterday. You could not help but notice how different the stadium appears after that event. Trash was blowing all through the stands and even on the football field. Summer weather from Saturday gave way to a much more typical March setting. The sky hung low while it displayed a grayish tone in the clouds. Birds circled the area searching for leftover food to eat. The only sounds were of those birds crying out or nearby cattle as they waited for someone to feed them. Surreal would be a good way to describe the scene as I made my way around each lap. I was alone there while hoping to work off a few pounds gained in recent meals. A siren echoed through our small town somewhere in the middle of my efforts. It would soon be replaced by an even louder siren near the end of my exercise. It was but another sound that changes our small community yet again.

My ten years of ministry here can be traced by tragedies. Some of these can be explained by the natural progression of age or disease. But the sad truth is most are labeled as accidents that wreck much more than cars. My town lost four young women early in my stay due to a horrific accident that continues to take its toll. Two years ago we once again faced a senseless act of violence beyond my human ability to understand. Today is another of those occasions when all of the air is sucked out of you by terrible news. A young woman who was a junior in our school died in a one car accident. It was her sirens that pierced my ears while working out. She is an only child to her parents. She is a friend to our students both in school and in our congregation. My heart hurts as a parent. My mind searches for answers as a minister.

I got word of the incident upon my arrival for church tonight. Our students were sharing some of their stories from the recent mission trip. Age does allow you some insight gained over the years. I knew when one of our girls slipped out that the news she received was fatal. We soon had our confirmation to this fact. My mind returned to 1978 when I learned of the death of a classmate who took his own life. It was a Sunday night much like this one. My dad called me at home where I was doing some school project. It was my lot that night to drive to the house to gather information on what was happening. I remember the sounds and the sights of those moments. Then it seemed right to go to my church to let someone know what was taking place. Our school would be shattered by this tragedy much as this school is experiencing now. It all felt strangely familiar to me this evening. Once again it would be my role to gently break the news of this most recent crisis.

There are not many rules or guidelines for these occasions. No amount of training ever prepares you for the real life moment. You mostly take a deep breath, say a fast prayer and be as gentle as can be. My daughter along with her friends would gather with classmates to mourn a student's passing. My eyes witnessed a similar outpouring years ago when word spread of not one but four girls losing their lives. Words do not come easy. Cliches give way to whispers or simply being silent. Pain is a very real thing in our human experience. I can still hear broken cries of those given awful news. I used to think that my place was to answer every question. How could my services not be needed by those blindsided by tragedy? Now I know there are times for answers but there are times no answer could make things better. Tonight is one of those occasions when silence gives way to reflection. That is good enough for now.

Bro. Trey