#Orlandostrong

The call came in at before 5 a.m. Sunday morning. It woke both of us up, and we both immediately knew it was probably bad news. You don't typically get calls before 5 a.m. on a Sunday morning with good news.

"I'm getting called into work. Shooting. Downtown."

Half asleep, my first reaction was anger. I asked if he was on call this weekend, no. I asked why he had to go in, his response sounds like it's a big thing. Before I even had time to fully process, he was kissing me goodbye and was gone.

I turned on the news to see what was so big it took him away from our family on that Sunday. And was met with horror.

The first time a mass shooting hit too close to home, my friend and I were sitting in my college apartment watching in shock and agony as Columbine unfolded. We were an hour north and felt helpless. We were glued to the TV all afternoon and when a candlelight vigil was announced in Denver, we jumped in my car and drove down. It didn't matter that we had class in the morning. It didn't matter that we had to drive an hour one way. We just needed to be with people who were mourning like us. We needed to contribute SOMEHOW.

This time, it was seven miles from my front door. Seven miles. As we lay sleeping peacefully, seven miles away tragedy and horror were unfolding. As the sounds of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse rang cheerfully through my home, Mike sat in front of what used to be a nightclub. As the kids moved to the backyard and played in the sunshine, families were sitting in waiting rooms praying that the bullets could be removed, just seven miles from me.

I don't even know how to begin to comprehend the horror. To see #prayfororlando and #orlandostrong trending and know that the world has it's eyes zeroed in on my home. To the world, this is where Mickey and Universal and Shamu are housed, but this city is our home. We know the beauty in this city, the city that hosts the largest Pride parade in the US. The city that hosts the largest party for the special needs population in the the US. That celebrates its diversity and welcomes the world with open arms (as long as we don't have to drive down I-Drive for some reason). Sure, there are things about this city that we all wish were better, things about other places that we miss, but this is the place we've chosen to lay down roots and raise our children.

My heart is breaking for the victims and the families of the victims. I can't even begin to imagine the fear of the unknown, or the complete devastation when the unknown becomes known. I have no idea how those that were there and survived begin to move forward. How terrifying it must be to wake up in a hospital bed and hear you were shot in a mass shooting that has the eyes of the world on your town. My heart is swelling in pride, because as you look under this microscope that we're under, you see the good. People who were standing by in the streets became helpers. People stood for hours in the hot sun to give blood to those in need. Appointments for later in the week are completely booked. It is impossible to give blood in Orlando right now because everyone is doing it. A gofundme designed to help the victims with whatever they need raised over a million dollars in 11 hours. People want to help. They want to connect. They want to do good. Rainbow flags raised in solidarity for the LGBTQ+ community all over the world.

My heart hurts for the first responders who had to walk into that horror and who did so without hesitation. For the EMTs and paramedics who transported gravely injured and scared individuals just a quarter mile down the street. For the medical staff who jumped into action so quickly and likely saved lives. For the media who had to stand outside the scene where such horror unfolded, who had to speak to family members, who had to tell the story and remain professional, remain unemotional.

And yet, in the wake of all the horror - hope. Restaurants that were closed opened and cooked food for the volunteers, for the first responders, for the media. Vigil after vigil after vigil where people hugged and cried together even though they had never met before.

We chose to not tell Zach about what happened. He's so little, he's still so innocent. He doesn't need to know that sometimes the world can be a confusing, and scary, and evil place. The hope, though, that makes me feel more comfortable for the future that he and Emily and Nicholas are inheriting. We are trying so hard to teach our children that if there is a choice, to always choose the path of kindness, compassion, and love. And that's the legacy I hope we leave for this world.