**This blog series was written about the events that happened on Tuesday, November 16th. 
It just took a while for the words to come. Told you that might happen… ;p.  Please click here to get the first part of the story and here for the second part.**
————————————————————————————————————————————————–
It started slowly, during breakfast, and progressed through the morning hours; flashbacks of Andrew pacing with the gun to his throat and flashes of a made-up image of Mom holding the pistol to her temple. 
 
I was getting angry. And my heart was on the verge of breaking.
 
As the team headed back to the Center to resume work on the soccer field, I could see the residual effects of the night before washing over each of us. One by one, we were shutting down and shutting each other out.
 
I was getting angry. And my heart was on the verge of breaking.

The plan was to continue working on the field, but the need was for us to address what was happening in our hearts and minds. So, we moved into one of the rooms used for church services and … sat. For a long time, we just sat. Most of us could not yet articulate what was running through us. Eventually, however, words just came. Sometimes they were intentional and followed some order, but other times it was just streams of consciousness spewing out of the mouth of the individual. 

At one point in time, I was pissed. I didn’t understand why Andrew had created such a disturbance in our team. I didn’t understand what power he had. And then I realized that it wasn’t his power that had caused the disturbance, but the work of one who seeks to “steal, kill and destroy.” All I wanted to do at that point was scream and punch him in the face! But, I felt paralyzed and unable to do anything except fall back into silent prayer to Father. 

Soon after that, I moved in to a depth of pain and ache for Mom’s death than I’d never experienced before.  My throat ached with the force of the cries that I was holding back before they broke through and I was left silent in my weeping. And, as I worked through the pain, I began to see the names or remember interactions with other suicide victims. Again, I found myself wondering where all of it was coming from. “Why Lord? Why do I feel this pain and anger? Why now?

 
“This is My heart.”

In the weeks since the incident, I’ve pondered whether or not I really felt the heart of Father that day. Could it be that I tasted just a sampling of the anger He feels when satan messes with the minds of His kids? The emptiness, ache and anguish He feels when those kids lose the battle over the mind and succumb to the only escape they see available – the physical surrendering of their life? 

To be honest, I’m still not sure. But, I know that the emotions that ran through me that morning were nothing like what I’ve felt before. And, at the end of it, I feel that Father allowed me a sweet, sweet release from it all. I saw a vision of Jesus coming under Mom to catch her just as she fell backwards from that fatal shot. He looked at her face and followed her lifeless body briefly before turning His face upward. With tears in His eyes and utter anguish on His face, He lets out a cry to Father. Then, peace washes over Him as He knows that she will be with Him eternally….