A Call to Prayer

It’s been three weeks. Three weeks is long enough for the shock to wear off - at least for those of us who do not know the O’Laughlin family personally. This morning I noticed that I’m noticing the ribbons less. By the time the landscape is recast in a winter palette of grays and whites, they - and the tragedy itself - will recede into the background. Normalcy is slowly returning to our villages, and that’s - well, that’s normal.

It’s been three weeks. And that is nothing for those who most intimately grieve Kelli O’Laughlin’s death. I can’t even begin to imagine their sorrow. I only know that it will never recede into the background.

This community has demonstrated a deep desire to support the O’Laughlins, to extend that extraordinary vigil of hearts and hands that lined the streets of her funeral procession. As Kelli’s family and friends continue the excruciating work of grief - let alone engage in the tasks required of them by the legal system - please be intentional about praying for them. Every single day. Pray for strength. Pray for hope. Pray for justice.

And one more word about us - that is, those of us who were affected primarily as neighbors. One small way this horror has changed me is that I am newly diligent about locking the door. I don’t think I’ll ever regain that old sense of safety that allowed me to leave the house open from time to time. But let’s not let the primary legacy of this tragedy be fear. I can still trace a significant piece of my call to ministry to the experience of unexpectedly losing a dear family friend at age sixteen. I decided, at her funeral, that I would honor her life by making my own meaningful.

Do something beautiful for Kelli.