No doubt, my saddest memory of the summer would be the shootings on Thursday, July 16th. Tragedy stuck us at home, literally in our backyard. It's one of those moments, like 9/11, where you'll never forget where you were when you heard. I was sitting in North Park Hospital visiting Lynda. Penny, Lynda and I were all talking when David Carroll came on the news and said there was an active officer shooting going on at the Naval Reserve Center on Amnicola and at the Recruiting office on Lee Hwy. At the time, Trace was at Karate and Keatyn was at school. I had no idea how it felt to have my own children on 9/11, but at that moment, when it feels like the world is spinning out of control, you want nothing more than have your kids within reach.
The man that committed these murders lived just behind my parents house in Colonial Shores. As the facts came out as to what had happened, I found myself glued to the TV. After days and days of watching, I never did get used to hearing "Chattanooga" and "Hixson, Tennessee" on the National News. Watching Fox News report from Fairview Road, 2 doors down from my parents driveway, while the SWAT team invaded the man's house was surreal. How in the world, did this happen here?
In the end, 5 heroes lost their lives. And one coward was killed by the Chattanooga Police Department. Five brave men who had devoted themselves to serving our country, were killed. Not in Iraq or Afghanistan. They had survived those war zones and returned safely, only to be killed here, at home.
That Sunday, it was announced at church that we would host David Wyatt's funeral the following Friday. I immediately volunteered to help my friend Becky who was in charge of arranging food. Finally, it was something, ANYTHING I could do to feel useful in a completely out of control situation. This marine lived a mile from our church, his kids went to Hixson Elementary. It was as close to "home" as it gets. His family didn't have a church, but they felt a connection with HUM because his son played Upward Basketball there years before.
To say it was an honor to get to participate in this service, was an understatement. Over 100 volunteers from the church arrived about 9:30 that morning. At 10:00, the church was "locked down." I have never seen such security, so many men in uniform. I shed so many tears that day. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever witnessed. The love and respect our city, our church, our country showed that family on their darkest day was unimaginable. I have never been so proud to be a Christian and a Chattanoogan. We got to meet several of his family members who were so gracious and appreciative. They shed tears all the way to the National Cemetery at the outpouring of love shown by our community as they lined the streets of the funeral procession. None of them live here except his wife and children and were in awe of how our city celebrated these heroes. His father commented that this never would have happened where he was from. Chattanooga went far beyond "southern hospitality." The Freedom Riders that lined up hours before the ceremony began and sat out in the blazing sun to escort him to the cemetery. The countless Chattanoogans that lined the streets along the route. The Red Cross that handed out water all day, the volunteers that got to church that morning and didn't leave until 9 o'clock that night after preparing, serving, and cleaning up the food from the service. Seeing our choir loft filled with Marines from his unit that sat behind his casket as "American Soldier" was sung by Toby Keith. The food that poured into the church to feed all the policemen and military that filled our church that day and then his exhausted family after they came back from the National Cemetery. It went on and on. It was heartbreaking and beautiful all at the same time.
I will never forget that day. Never.
