My Jesus Journal

Law Enforcement United

I started to write this back in May, when I first got home from the trip, but then I got busy with finals, so I finished it today. It's not really like what I've posted before, but I still wanted to share this. 

In 2003, I was sitting at my kitchen table, watching cartoons, eating cereal, when I heard a knock on the door. I got up and looked around the corner to find two police men at the door. I became terrified, thinking that my parents had done something wrong, and my mom refusing to answer the door didn't help those thoughts in my mind. I remember my mom going upstairs to get her robe, and then her coming back down, but still hesitating to answer the door. I don't remember what happened next, I don't remember her opening the door, but I still remember the scream she let out when she found out that her brother had been killed in the line of duty, early that morning.

That was ultimately when my life changed...my family went through a pretty hard time, obviously, we lost somebody that we loved. That man that would run around my Aunt's yard with me, and race me, and pick me up and put me behind him so that he could win, would never be there to do that again. I know that you may be thinking 'she was only 5, how could it bother her so much?', but it's not all those memories that I miss...it's the future that I could have had with him in it that I have to miss. I don't get to have him here to talk to, to encourage me, to make me laugh...he's not here to threaten boys with my dad, he's not here to see me grow up, he won't see me graduate, or get married...he can't come in from a different state and surprise me in the morning by being in the kitchen when I wake up and go downstairs...he isn't here on Christmas, for me to run up to him and hug him, and tell him how much I love him. I don't get to grow up with him here, I don't have the chance to get to know him better, I have to miss out on so many things because a 6 time convicted felon didn't want to go back to jail. As much as I wish he could still be here, I know that if he could redo that day, then he wouldn't change a thing. He died doing his job, a job that he loved, because he cared about the people around him.

This isn't the life that I chose, but this IS the life that I have been given. I've met so many families that have let their tragedies consume their lives...but that's not what my Uncle Rod wants for me. He loved me, he did his best to make me happy when he saw me, and he did a dang good job at it, he would want me to be happy. Losing my uncle left a mark on my life, a hole in my heart that is unfillable, but I don't sit around and feel sorry for myself...I make the best out of a terrible situation.

God doesn't do anything to hurt us, instead he takes the hurt that we feel, and helps us to learn and grow from it. He holds our futures in his hands, he knows the plan for our lives. We are supposed to use our experiences to grow, to help others. There is nothing that we can't get through with the help of God by our sides. God works in mysterious ways, and he doesn't want our lives to be consumed with negative emotions, he puts things in our lives to help us through our struggles.

After my uncle was killed in the line of duty, my dad joined law enforcement. Along with joining law enforcement, my dad also joined a group that rode their bikes to Washington, D.C., every year to honor and remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice, and to be with those who lost someone they love in law enforcement.

5 years ago, my dad and a few others made their own division for the bike ride, and my sister, mother, and I joined him on the tour that year. My sister, mother, and I helped as support, and helped the riders when they went to each stop, while my dad helped out in other areas, and rode. I had to skip the second year, but the third year for our states division, I was back as support.

This year was our division's 5th year, and my 4th year, and I think that this year was my favorite. Before the riders started every morning, and before they left every stop, a survivor got up and shared their story with the group. But we didn't just stand around and watch, we all huddled together around that survivor and let them know that we were there to listen. After they would share their story, the Chaplin would pray, and the riders would get started. It rained every day that the riders had to ride, but I didn't hear any of them complain. Instead, I heard them talk about how they felt that they could ride anywhere, that they weren't afraid to ride in the rain anymore, that whenever they felt like quitting, they would think about who they were riding for and keep going. To say that these men and women are inspiring is an understatement.

Every night we would get together, and talk about our lives outside of LEU, about the things we loved, about our jobs, etc. We bonded every chance that we would get. On the last day of the ride, there's always a big gathering at a local restaurant...and riders and supporters from every division would meet up, relax, and talk more with each other. This is one of my favorite moments from the ride, because despite the disagreements that the divisions may have with each other, they still meet up, and they still get together to honor our fallen loved ones. It's not about who does what, or who says what...that's not what this week is about. LEU is about bonding with each other, and letting each other know that we aren't alone in this. It's about remembering our loved ones who can't be here anymore. It's about family, despite our disagreements.

My dad, sister, and I have left the restaurant early for the past two years to go to the wall...The wall is where the names of all of the fallen officers are, and around this time of year there are pictures, frames, wreaths, etc. to decorate them, and show that they are still remembered. Last year I held it together a lot longer. This year, as I made my way to where my uncle's name was, I could feel my mask falling off...and as soon as I reached his name, I was fighting back tears. I sat down across from his name, and let the tears fall. I felt my dad come over to me and hug me and my sister, and I could tell that he was crying too, and that was okay. He sat down next to me, and we both looked over to a woman who was all by herself, looking at one of the pictures on the wall.

"I think she needs a hug," my dad told me, pointing in her direction.

"Her?" I asked, my anxiety fighting me.

"Ya, she's all alone," he said, and then I felt myself stand up. I walked towards her, and asked her if I could give her a hug. She nodded, and hugged me, and then she told me about the person she lost, and she asked me about the person I lost. I didn't even know this woman, but the fact that we could bond over something like this made me feel better, because I wasn't alone, she was feeling how I've felt for so long. After a while she thanked me, and then went on her way, and I made my way back to my dad, and suddenly I was crying more. It was only her first year as a survivor, while it was my 12th. My heart broke for her. My heart broke for every officer on the wall's family and friends. They aren't just names, they are names with stories behind them, with feelings behind them, with heart break behind them. With every person on that wall, there was somebody behind it who felt how I did. I thought and thought about that, and then I closed my eyes...and I prayed that God would help all those who are hurting, just like I am. I prayed that he would keep our officers safe, and that he would keep all the survivors safe, to help them use that pain for good. I prayed that he would work through me, and help me to help those around me. I prayed that he would let others cherish the moments they have with their families, and to not take advantage of the moments they have, because any moment can be your last. I thanked God for giving me this opportunity every year, to have this type of healing, and for the people here that I was blessed to meet. I opened my eyes back up, and I found some of the members from our group standing with us. The one walked up to me, and rubbed my arm. He's lost somebody too, and here he was comforting me. We all got up, and walked together, and when I thought I was done crying, I felt tears running down my face again...but this time, I wasn't sad...I was happy. I may have lost my uncle that day, but I gained a family through it.

(HS