May 19 – “Santa Fe”

Chris and I were at an estate sale.  All the items were quilting related.  Notions and material and kits of all kinds.  Even one of those computerized sewing machines ($800.  A real steal, I guess).  Chris didn’t see anything that she couldn’t live without, but she did get a little ruler.  Quilters have a tool for everything.  Gotta respect that.

Now we had heard briefly that there was a possible shooting at the high school in Santa Fe, and best I could determine, Galveston’s engine five had already been dispatched to cover calls for their fire department.  We decided to stop by and check on the fire department’s true boss, Trish.  She lives in Santa Fe, and her son is the current chief of their volunteer department.  Her husband is the past chief.  They have some real ties to the community.  Trish had the TV on, keeping up with what was happening.  She told us two of our chiefs had responded immediately on hearing the call.  We had a prayer with her and left for home. 

Before we were even half-way there I received a call from the assistant chief who was on site of the shootings.  The Galveston County Fire Fighters’ Association Chaplain was asking if he could contact me about helping out.  We exchanged contact info and I made the call. He was gathering as many chaplains as he could find to be available for the first responders.  He gave me the meeting time and location, so I changed into my uniform and headed out. 

As I drove the truck away from the house I noticed that the gas gauge read less than half a tank.  That concerned me a bit because the old truck is quite the gas guzzler.  I knew this was a God-mission, though, so I pressed on, figuring I could fill up later in the day.  To make a long story short … by the time I arrived at the meeting site the gauge read three quarters of a tank.  And after all the running around I ended up doing, when I pulled up at the house that gauge still read higher than it did when I left.  Thank for that, Lord.

The chaplains meeting was to decide who would deploy where.  Some were needed on site to simply be a presence, walking around and connecting with the first responders and SWAT teams just to let them know we were there for them.  And to pray.  A second group was to go to the secondary site that had been established as the Reunification Center.  This was where students had been taken and parents were told to go connect with them.  The issue, however, was that the student was not always at the center.  That did not necessarily mean that their student was among the victims.  Many students ran into the woods or escaped to nearby businesses or went home with friends.  Many had left their cell phone behind, so they had no way of contacting parents.  The subsequent confusion left many parents in a state of shock and dread and downright horror as they feared the worst.  Chaplains were requested to be on hand to offer support for those situations.  One chaplain had already received word that she was needed at a home where five students had gathered and were pretty distraught.  The situation sounded as chaotic as it apparently looked from the outside. 

As a quick aside, as the guy who needed to meet with the chaplains was driving to the site, trying to figure out where we could meet – under a tree?  On a picnic table?  He passed a little Methodist Church, and on a whim decided to stop in and ask if we could have our meeting there.  They were quite gracious, and assured him we could meet in their fellowship building.  By the time we finished our meeting, they had activated their missions team.  The room began filling up with water and snacks and volunteers.  We were told that it was all for us, to use as we saw fit.  We were stunned to say the least, and thanked them profusely.  That added a whole new perspective to our talks, as we now could also offer physical assistance to first responders and victims.  In fact, before I got home I saw where the FBI had set up shop in that church as well, turning it into a full blown victims assistance center. 

I was assigned to go to the site, itself.  It was not easy to get there, either.  The roads all around the school had been shut down, of course.  We had to pass through several road blocks, and if my cohort had not been in a department vehicle with lights flashing, I would never have gotten through.  Once through the  road block we had to weave our way through literally hundreds of police vehicles stopped all over the road as the officers responded to the initial call, got as close as they could, then jumped out to run the rest of the way.  We parked and made our way to the command vehicle of my partner’s fire station.  They were in the process of trying to get food distributed to the hundreds of first responders, so he let them use his vehicle and we started our individual rounds.  I located the Santa Fe Volunteer fire department crew.  They had been on site all day, but as I approached and several of them recognized me, they offered me food and water, encouraging me as I was arriving to encourage them.  From there I walked over to the SWAT truck.  It was more like a tank.  No, bigger than a tank.  And there were SWAT guys everywhere.  And that doesn’t include the three SWAT teams of at least fifty each that were apparently engaged in debriefings.  Police detectives and crime scene investigators were already beginning their work inside the building.  The medical personnel and LifeFlight helicopters were gone, having delivered the victims to their appropriate places.  The community had already responded with loads of water and pizza and hot meals.  Last night a prayer vigil was held at a local bank building.  At least three Critical Incident Stress Management teams have been notified and put on alert for meetings in the days to come. 

As I was making my way around the area, primarily praying about the sheer massiveness of it all, when my phone rang.  It was another of our assistant chiefs asking if I was aware of the situation.  He told me about our two chiefs who responded and suggested that I check on them.  One lives in Santa Fe, so he was going to stay as close to the scene as he could for the duration.  I’ll try to touch base with him later.  The other has a son who attends the school, so I was particularly concerned for him.  I touched base with my partner, called in to the chaplain who first gathered us together, and left for Galveston. 

The scene was just as eerie as I weaved my way out.  The one that I remember most vividly for some reason was the lady television reporter who was standing next to all the equipment, holding her microphone at her waist, and staring blankly in the direction of the school.  No frantic activity that I knew would come when she was called on to go on camera.  No movement at all, in fact.  Just a quiet, helpless, stoic stare.  I think I’ll remember that one.

The chief was doing fine.  He was processing what he had gone through and was pretty much ready to dive back into the fray as he was needed.  I prayed with him and his wife as well.  I guess that’s what the community needs the most of right now … prayer.  The shooter is in custody.  Feelings will be raw for a long time.  Sadness, anger, guilt, frustration, helplessness will all be exhibited in the days and weeks to come.  Pray for healing.  Pray for comfort.  Pray for peace. 

Psalms 63:2-4 says, “I have seen you in the sanctuary and beheld your power and your glory.  Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you.  I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands.”

Father, would you watch over the first responders who will be involved in the community for a long time.  Bring physical healing to the ones who were wounded.  Give wisdom and compassion to their doctors and medical caregivers.  Walk with the families of the victims through the gut-wrenching days ahead.  Touch the students who will be involved in graduation ceremonies next week, as well as those who will be attending the school again next year.  And touch the heart of the young man who was the shooter.  Walk with him and his family as well as he faces the consequences for his choices.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.