Tragedy – The Blessed Overcomer

Today, I remember Ahmaud Arbery.

On this day in 2020, he was tragically murdered while out for a run. Even years later, that truth sits heavy on my heart.

As a former runner myself, this tragedy hit me in a deeply personal way. Running, for many of us, is sacred space. It’s the rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement before the world wakes up. It’s lungs burning in the cold air. It’s the quiet stretch of road where your thoughts finally settle into place. Like me, I’m sure Mr. Arbery loved the feel of a great run—the steady stride, the challenge of a hill, the satisfaction of pushing through when your legs want to quit.

Maybe he had a running playlist like I used to -songs that flip a switch inside you, that give you that extra motivation when the miles get long. Maybe certain lyrics helped him dig deeper, find another gear. Or maybe he preferred silence. Maybe his runs were his time to pray, to think about his day, to sort through life one step at a time.

Running is freedom. Or at least, it’s supposed to be.

The one visible difference between Mr. Arbery and myself was the color of our skin. I’m a white guy. In all my days as a runner, I never worried about being followed. I never worried about someone questioning why I was in a particular neighborhood. I never feared the police trailing me for no reason. I never considered that a routine jog could end in violence.

That’s a privilege I didn’t earn. It’s simply something I was born into because of the color of my skin.

Today, I think about Mr. Arbery’s family and friends—the empty chair at the table, the birthdays that feel incomplete, the runs that now carry grief instead of joy. I pray that the love of God surrounds them in ways that bring comfort beyond understanding.

I also think about my brothers and sisters of color as they lace up their shoes and head out the door. Something as simple as a run should not require courage. It should not require vigilance. It should not require a mental calculation of safety.

And yet, for many, it does.

So today my prayer is simple:

Dear God, protect my brothers and sisters of color.
Allow them to have a wonderful run.
Let the miles strengthen their bodies and clear their minds.
And bring them safely back home to their families.

May we build a world where every runner—no matter their skin color—can experience the road as it was meant to be: open, freeing, and safe. ~OC

Tomorrow, most everyone in America—and most of the world—will take a moment to remember what happened on that Tuesday across our nation September 11th, 2001.

We will fall silent as bells toll for the almost 3,000 people whose lives were lost in those Tuesday morning attacks.

Countless others have been lost over the years due to health issues caused on that tragic Tuesday twenty-three years ago.

There will be tributes paid to the heroes who responded to the attacks—those members of the public who fervently worked to help rescue people from the rubble, even when there were so few left alive to rescue.

We’ll pay tribute to the 184 who died at the Pentagon.

We will salute the courageous passengers of United Flight 93—the very first soldiers to engage the enemy in a post-9/11 war. We will remember the words “Let’s Roll.”

We will remember where we were when we heard the news—what we were doing, how we found out, who was there with us… who shouted and who cried. Who was speechless.

We will all recall asking “Why?”

We will recognize the lessons learned on Tuesday September 11th—perhaps we’ll even celebrate the unity we had on September 12th.

But what of our recollection of 23 years ago today?

What about September 10, 2001?

On the morning of September 10, 2001, Katie Couric and Matt Lauer opened NBC’s TODAY show with news of “anemic” economic growth, noting the Dow and the NASDAQ at near record lows for the year. Al Roker giving us the latest weather for our neck of the woods.

On September 10, 2001, ESPN was discussing the Dallas Cowboys loss the day before to my Tampa Bay Bucs. Headline news was discussing shark attacks along the eastern seaboard. And the entertainment world was a buzz about the first Harry Potter movie.

In our nation’s capital, news outlets chronicled the investigation into the disappearance of Capitol Hill intern Chandra Levy, and ever-increasing suspicion that then-Congressman Gary Condit knew more about the matter than he was saying.

Only a tiny number of people even took notice of international news that Ahmed Shah Massoud—the leader of the so-called Northern Alliance fighting against the Taliban in Afghanistan—had been killed by a suicide bomber disguised as a journalist.

News of that terrorist attack would have massive repercussions just days later.

But terrorism was the furthest thing from virtually everyone’s minds.

The 1993 bombing of the World Trade Center—which killed six and injured hundreds more—was barely a distant memory for all but a few police professionals still working “the terrorist angle.”

There was no mystery surrounding the most recent attack on the United States—al-Qaeda had claimed responsibility for the suicide bombing on the USS Cole as she was being refueled in Yemen’s Aden harbor, killing 17 sailors and wounding 37 others less than a year prior.

American law enforcement officers were correctly focused on keeping the streets safe from criminal mayhem perpetrated by the thief who comes to steal and kill and destroy—but they were doing so almost entirely “below the radar.”

It’s difficult to believe that the 9/11 terrorist attacks occurred twenty-three years ago tomorrow. Sometimes it feels like it was yesterday.

It’s even more difficult to believe that on 9/10 America as a whole—and many ways, Americans individually—had a unique brand of innocence. We didn’t know it at the time, but we did have it.

However, that purity wafted away in the smoke and cinders rising from the smoldering craters in lower Manhattan, northern Virginia, and a plane in rural Pennsylvania.

On Wednesday 9/12, our thinking about the world was vastly different from what our thinking was on Monday 9/10.

Remembering Monday 9/10/01, is to be reminded that we simply cannot know what tomorrow may bring, or what may follow thereafter.

Today is September 10, 2024—twenty-three years ago today 2,996 families spend their last day together as a family.

Today is September 10, 2024, what thoughts and memories are going through your mind? ~OC

Tag: Tragedy

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Not the End

September 10, 2001