Throwback Thursday: A Litany by Candlelight

I wrote this on April 17, 2007 after attending a vigil at George Mason University remembering the victims of the Virginia Tech Shooting. A lot of students from my school knew people there, so it was a really emotional event.

“Times like these, we need to count our blessings,” said a Mason student wearing maroon and orange. After she suggested that those present name the things that they’re thankful for, there was an initial silence, and then an outpouring of thanks.

“Parents.” “Strength.” “Family.” “Love.” 

Male and female voices called these out from all corners of the crowd. 

“I’m thankful that on a night like this we can gather together. God is here.”

Some shouted loudly, others were barely audible.
“That the world cares.”

Some shook with the cold and others rang out with confidence. 
“Unity.” “Resiliency.” “Compassion.” “Charity.”

But all of them named these things with grateful hearts, taking heart in finding the good still left.

“Sisters,” one girl said as she gathered her friends closer to her.

“That it ended when it did.” A sentiment greeted with sighs of agreement.

A sense of community spread throughout the crowd as more and more chimed in. Once, two spoke at once, but then stopped, letting the other speak.

“I’m thankful for all of you.”

“For the health care workers,” one said. “The Red Cross,” followed right after.

Many of the thanks were touched with a solemnity earned by worry. 

“That my brother still has a future.” The crowd silenced briefly.

“For every mom that called their kid today.” 

“For Facebook and Cell phones,” greeted with laughter. However, the sentiment was accepted as truth- Many Mason students today reached their friends at Virginia Tech through these mediums to find that they were safe.

“I’m thankful that even though there’s evil in the world, we know that there’s still good,” a man cried from the back, his voice breaking.

“For the men and women in uniform.” Those that helped today. 

“To be able to go to a university.” Since so many around the world cannot.

“For tomorrow morning.” When the sun will rise.

“I’m glad that the story isn’t over.”

No it’s not. The healing is just beginning.