a meditatioin on taking down the Von Maur Memorial

We helped lay to rest the “shooting memorial at Von Maur. There were probably forty or so volunteers all together, and five hundred onlookers who came for a variety of reasons.

First, there was a sense that it was time for some closure. One of the folks spoke about needing to move on to normalcy. I suspect he meant normalcy being able to move on and not be tied to this event like it’s an albatross, keeping us from functioning. Of course, this would be a life of victimization. How poor would this earth be if that’s what we did! We are not victims, we are confident in God’s love. That’s normalcy: having confidence with love, all the while being aware of the albatrosses in our world. We blessed the place with our hands. Then someone in the crowd started singing “Silent Night.” We all chimed in. There was a four year old girl in the front row with a blanket over her head who sang, and a very experienced gentleman to her right to joined her. It was a song we all knew and a song for the season, and a song of hope because it joined us to That Which Is Beyond Us.

Second, there was a sense that it was time to move on. This resonated well. It is time to note we are in transition toward another time and place in our hearts. It is not healthy, I think, to easily say “good bye” and “good luck” like it never happened. Forgetfulness is a sorry state of affairs. So we must continue to be in touch with that sense of loss and pain, yet reach out to a new future, which we will create with God’s help, and which is the glory of God. At once, we are responsible and hopeful. God Is With Us.

Third, there was great probability that it is good to be together at a time like this. We all could have stayed home and been in out of the cold of the night. Instead, we showed up and did what we could, shared ourselves with one another, called on the God Who Is Larger Than Us prepared ourselves for renewal. Ann Lamott put it this way: “…it’s good to be out where others can see you, so you can’t be your ghastly spoiled self. It forces you to act slightly more elegantly, and this improves your thoughts, and thereby the world.”

A man on crutches in the front row of mourners called out to me as I was readying a teddybear for the bin. “Hold that one up, please. Janet put that there…. Yes, that’s it, it has a red scarf.” “Yes,” I responded, “it has red stripes on the scarf.” “It sure does” (he took a picture). “Thank you, sir,” he finished. “You’re very welcome.” He moved on.

So will we. I am confident we will move on.



P.S. As it turns out, being credentialed means showing up, going to the on in charge, stating who you are and why you’re there. Then you can introduce your friends, and they’re credentialed, too. Sort of like osmosis, we all got credentialed. Of course, this is Omaha, but I’ll be this system works elsewhere, too.