The Lock Down

I'm still shaking slightly as I type.  I just went through a traumatic ordeal.  Okay, maybe I'm being a little dramatic...but at the time, I was afraid.

It all started the other night when I started thinking about the Columbine shooting.  I thought about the report of the young lady who was asked if she was a Christian.  There are varying reports on how that all went down (You can read about it HERE).  But the point is, a student was asked, and the student said yes, she believed in God even though she had a gun pointed in her direction.  Pure Boldness!

Sunday night Scott, and I attended a class at our new church and the pastor talked about Christians who were truly persecuted for their faith - not just mocked, but tortured and killed.

And then this morning, I made myself sit down and read a part of my YouVersion Bible reading plan before starting off my day.  I came across the verse in Luke (12:8-9) that says,

"8I tell you the truth, everyone who acknowledges me publicly here on earth, the Son of Man will also acknowledge in the presence of God’s angels. 9But anyone who denies me here on earth will be denied before God’s angels. "

I've always wondered if I really had the guts to boldly answer about my faith in my God if I were to be put in a situation where it would cost me my life.  I'd like to think that I wouldn't cower but how could I definitely be sure?  What if my children were witnesses (or worse - hostages)?  Would I deny my faith to try to spare our lives, or would I answer even more boldly so that they too may carry the same boldness when it was their turn to answer? I've never even been remotely close to facing a situation like that.  

To be totally real, I didn't even know if my belief in God was strong enough that I'd still believe He even existed if I were to be put in a situation like that.  I can't see Him, can't touch Him, can't audibly hear Him...Every now and then, the doubt tries to creep in.  There are times I question His existence.  After all I've been through, After all that has been provided, after seeing things that can't be explained any other way...I still have to fight that doubting voice from time to time.  So to be honest, I felt ashamed of myself for not knowing for sure how I'd respond.

So all of that set the stage for what happened this morning.  I dropped my 4-year-old off at preschool and then headed straight for the elementary school where I had plans to volunteer in my 9-year-old's class.  On the way there, a song came on the radio by Tenth Avenue North, "Times."  I listened to the words carefully and thought deeply about its message.  It was the same message I was trying to share with my 9-year-old the night before.

I finally arrived at the school and it was raining and cool, so I did something I never do.  I signed myself in at 9:30 and went ahead and signed myself out at 11:00.  Embarrassing Confession: I'm a rule-follower to the extreme.  It really is not healthy to feel the need to stick so closely to the rules, and I know that.  I struggle with it...but every now and then, just to push myself to not "conform" to someone else's ideas of how to do things, I break the rules.  And then?

 I get caught.

I remember once a security guard called me out on breaking a rule (I can't remember what it was, taking a shortcut to my seat at a stadium or something.  It was dumb because I had my ticket in my hand to prove I belonged in that section).  But when he called me out in front of everyone, I threw my hands up as I stared glared at Scott, shouting, "See?  This is why I follow the rules!" Scott may or may not have found way too much humor in me getting caught...which ticked me off more because he's a rule breaker, even declares "the rules don't apply" to him, and almost always gets away with it.  It's so not fair.

So...back to signing myself out.  I knew that I probably shouldn't do this, but I didn't want to have to walk all the way out to the modular buildings in the back of the school where my daughter's class was, and then walk all the way around the entire school building in the rain (because the school's doors are locked except for the front), just to go back into the office to sign out.  I've noticed other parents have signed themselves out in advance, so that is how I justified my actions.  I saved myself a step on this cool drizzly morning.  I went ahead and signed out so I could just walk to my car when I was done.  

Then I slapped on my "Volunteer" sticker, turned around, and saw my friend's daughter sitting in the office. 

"Hi, Mrs. Wallace!"  She beamed.  She sure has a way of lighting up any person's day.  I stood there and talked to her and her classmate for about 5 minutes, because she always has something interesting to say.  I love interesting people!

I finally had to make myself tell them goodbye so I could get to my responsibilities.  "I better get to my daughter's class!  See you later!"

I walked through the school halls, out the back doors, across the back parking area and to the modular class rooms in the back.  Once I made my way to my daughter's class room, my daughter got up to hug me, then the teacher greeted me and asked me to make some copies.  She gave me a sticky note with her code for the copy machine, some paper, and pointed me in the direction of the modular copy room across the 3rd grade building.  

I made my way to the other modular building, in the drizzle, and opened the door.  I was in this room one time before.  It really creeped me out.  The doors were left unlocked and it was kind of off by itself.  Inside, three copy machines were lined up against the wall.  Some tables were positioned perpendicular to the copy machines, blocking off the other half of the room.  Right next to the tables, there was a shelf with various reams of copy paper labeled with teacher's names.  The shelf touched the end of one table and reached across towards the wall where the copy machines were lined up.  It blocked off most of the room, but there was about 2 feet of space between the end of the shelf and wall.  On the other side of the room was a bunch of maintenance necessities ~ vacuums and supplies, I don't know.  It was mainly used for storage.  

Since I'd never made copies before on those machines, I had to take my time to read the instructions posted on the wall (I hate reading instructions!), and then I attempted to make my first set of copies.  Done!  Yes, I felt like a rock star, actually reading the instructions and actually being able to follow them! (I am a rule follower, not an instruction follower!)  Copy,  Next!  Copy, Next!  This was easy!

I was on my third set of copies when I heard a voice over the intercom system, "All Teachers, Lock Down NOW."

Uh...what was that again?

I heard the voice repeat, "All Teachers, Lock Down NOW."

I willed my brain to stop and process.  Oh.  She really said lock down.

I peeked through the window.  What do I do?  "Surely this is just a drill." I thought as I pushed "copy" for the next set of papers.  But as the copier was making a whole bunch of ruckus and spitting out papers, I thought, "Wait.  Her voice sounded serious.  What if this is NOT a drill.  My kids haven't mentioned anything about a practice drill, and it seems like they just had a lock down drill.  I am not being smart here, standing in this room, making noise..."

I peeked out the window towards my 9-year-old's class room.  I didn't see any crazy people with guns walking near her building.  Surely by now the doors were locked.  But the door to this room?  NOT locked.  I didn't even see a lock to lock it myself.  

So that is when I looked around, knew that all the doors to all the classrooms were probably locked, and that there was no way to get into a class room...you know, with other people where I would feel slightly safer.  Okay, so it's just me, myself, and I.  What do I do?

I scanned the room and saw that the space between the wall and the book shelf was the only logical place to hide.  So I crouched down between the two, feeling like a complete idiot and waited.

Surely, any second they will announce it's just a drill.  But a few seconds felt like hours.  I grabbed my cell phone as I heard something flapping and scraping against the window above me.  Was it a person?  A person with a gun?  Are they out there plotting to break in through the window right next to me?  Is this real or is it just a drill?

I tried calling the school, telling myself to speak quietly just in case there really was someone right out the window.  "When they answer, I will quietly tell them where I am, and ask them if this is a drill." I told my brain.  

Only there was no answer.  

That's when I realized my hands were shaking.  I texted my husband, who was a couple hours drive away, and told him what was going on.  He said he'd try to see if he could find anything out.

While I waited, I tried calling the school again.  

No answer.

This no answering business of theirs was making me even more nervous!  I crouched down even more behind the bookshelf as I heard more flapping against the window.  I looked up to see birds flying upward.  On the bright side, it wasn't a crazy gunman.  On the downside?  I am apparently afraid of birds!

Once the birds flew away, there was complete silence.  "Maybe the birds were flying away from the danger," I thought.

Silence only gives you time to really think about the situation you are in.  "Oh my gosh...my babies are in the building.  What if this is real and my babies are in the same room with a psycho?"  That's when I started praying.  I thought of my 6-year-old who already struggles with anxiety, especially when it comes to school.  Was she okay?  Was she afraid?

My 9-year-old was just across from me and I couldn't even get to her if I wanted to at that point, but I was relatively confident she was safe because I'd peeked out earlier and saw nobody by her building.  The doors would be locked by now.  And my 11-year-old son?  He was in another modular building not too far away.  It had to be locked by now too.  I knew he'd be brave, lead his classmates if necessary.  I thought all these things through as I prayed for protection, not over myself, but over my children.

And as I was praying, I heard someone approaching the building.  I really didn't know what to do.  Could it be a teacher?  Or is this a maniac looking for someone to take hostage?  Will they ask me what or who I believe in?  Or will they just shoot me and leave me for dead?  

I heard the door open, and the extra light seeped in letting me know that whoever opened it was standing there, just leaving the door open for a second.  I knew that the person standing there was either someone checking in, or someone with a gun.  Either way, I knew that they could sense my presence.  I could try to pretend they couldn't see me.  I could try to pretend I was invisible...maybe if I shut my eyes...  Okay, now the pressure was on because I knew I was really making this entire situation really awkward.

 If I showed myself, I would probably have some answering to do...about something.  Whether it was about why I was in there, if I wanted to live, or if I loved God, I didn't know.  I could either be told I was safe, I could be taken as a hostage, or I could be shot right there on the spot.  Either way, I knew it was time to face the man at the door.

I peeked out.  The man was wearing this official-looking jacket and held a clip board in his hand.  I still eyed him suspiciously.  He looked relatively harmless, but I reminded myself that he may still be able to hurt me with that clipboard.  I at least had a chance to make some commotion if he tried to...ummmmm...clip me or something.

So I leaned out more so he could see me, (SURPRISE!???) and that's when the questions started.

Yes, I am a parent volunteer.

What was I doing in here?  

Hiding.  Duh!

Yes, I did sign in at the front office.  I may have involuntarily patted my volunteer sticker to prove it...because I suddenly felt like I was in trouble.

My last name on the sign in sheet?

Wallace

(Dang it!  I also signed myself out...WHY DO I ALWAYS GET CAUGHT?  I'm SO going to get scolded!)

He wrote my name down....then told me he would "take it up with the administration on how to better handle lock down situations with volunteers."

"You will need to stay in here until they announce the lock down is over on the intercom."  He instructed.  

Really, he was very nice, even though he did look a little disappointed to see me in the copy room.  (Sorry, Sir).  And I was glad he told me to stay in there until the announcement, because that gave me time to text Scott back and tell him all was well...in the midst of the tears flooding out of my eyes.  

My hands shook even worse and I kept telling myself, "Stop it, Melissa!  Stop it!  It was just a stupid drill, you big baby!  I can't believe you are crying about a stupid drill!" 

It didn't help that Scott texted me back right then to let me know that he had just stepped out for a bathroom break and that he wouldn't have even gotten my text until later had he not needed that break.   Because of his need to pee, I at least had him praying for me during that time, and I knew that someone out there knew that I may (or may not) be in trouble.  What perfect timing for a pee!  Thank you, Thank you, bladder of my husband's for demanding to set the glorious pee free! 

As I tried to dry up the tears and calm my shaking hands, I reflected on that moment of silence I experienced while praying.  I realized that I got a tiny (and much-safer) little taste of what some of these people went through at these schools where evil actually walked in, and evil sought out victims to hurt and destroy.  Tears of compassion took their turn to spill out as I continued to tell myself to "Man up." But the dramatic side of me argued, "But this is WHY they are doing these drills, because of evil people who might try to hurt our babies."

I saw a box of tissue sitting right on top of the book shelf I had been hiding behind just moments ago and grabbed one.  I wondered if someone knew I might be needing a tissue in a copier room today and placed them there...as if this were all a mean prank.  It felt like a prank!

I dried my eyes...spilled a few more tears...dried my eyes...and then willed myself to stop.  I knew I couldn't walk back into my daughter's class room looking like an emotional wreck.  

So I checked my face with my iPhone camera...saw that my hair was wildly out of place, and put myself back in order.  Then I made my way back to the class room.  I did a good job keeping it together until 11:00, when I walked back to the office and re-wrote 11:00 over the 11:00 I already printed earlier that morning (That way I could say that I went back to confirm I wrote down the correct time when I left).

*Sigh*  I so just need to stick to following the rules. (Grrrrrr.)

I walked out of the building and towards my car when I saw my friend (whose daughter I talked to earlier this morning) driving by.  We waved to each other as I thought, "If you only KNEW what kind of danger your daughter and I were in this morning!"  I struggled with the temptation to jump in front of her minivan so I could stop her, throw my arms around her and sob my horrendous story into her shoulder, but again...I knew I was feeling the after-effects of all the drama I just experienced.

That and I didn't need her to confirm to me that I am indeed a drama queen.  All it would take was an eye-roll or a giggle (not that she would have done that to me), and I'd burst into tears again.  (Because really, I HATE drama, so I don't want to be dramatic!  And I felt so dramatic right then.)   So I walked to my car instead, got inside, buckled up with shaky hands (still following the rules!) and breathed out.  

Tears started to make their way back again..."NO." I told myself.  "You are not going to cry over a drill."  I willed the tears away.  Gosh.  It sure felt like I was in that room for. ev. er.

And I guess it wasn't just the drill that had me worked up.  It was remembering what happened in December and being relieved that my babies are okay today.  It was mourning the tragedies other schools wouldn't be able to so easily shake off.

It was also realizing that I was genuinely afraid, and being in awe of the fact that in the midst of my fear, I did shake, but I also prayed...and I kept it together, cool and calm until it was over.  I am a panicker (if that is even a word) by nature, so this revelation surprised me.  I stood up to face the man and I was prepared to answer whatever question he had for me with the truth.

When it came time to face the clipboard-armed maniac, I was calm, and there was an unrelenting peace that covered my fear and allowed me to face my fate.  "So that is what it must be like when in the face of real danger," I thought. In that moment, I was alone, but I wasn't really alone.  When I stood up, I was still shaking, but I had peace that no matter the outcome, I was being held.

I started my car, and with the engine the radio came on too. The same song I heard earlier played again,

In times of confusion
In chaos and pain
I'm there in your sorrow under the weight of your shame 

I'm there through your heart-ache
I'm there in the storm
My love I will keep you by my power alone 

I don't care where you've fallen or where you have been
I'll never forsake you
My love never ends
It never ends

I'm thankful that really there was no danger.  I'm thankful the dreaded "clipboard psychopath" was really just the man running the drills and making sure that our children's school stays as safe as possible, (and that I was able to be the guinea pig who alerted them to a possible security issue).

(You are welcome!)

But above all of that, I am most thankful that I experienced this little bit of fear.  It was in that shaky fear that I felt peace.  I felt more than peace!  I was surrounded by His love.  Sure I wasn't really in danger.  But I thought that maybe I was.  And at that moment when I knew I had to face that man, I was ready to tell him that I love my God if that is what he asked.

As that song played on the radio on the way home, the message was received.  That song wasn't just for my daughter, it was also for me.  My God loves me so much that He is willing to surround me with His peace and love even when I'm not really in danger, just so I would know He was still with me.  His perfect love cast out the paralyzing fear.  He gives this love freely, even when I am undeserving or doubtful.

There I was earlier in the day, wondering if I could be so bold...

and there He was later, giving me the strength to face my fear in a very safe way.

How cool is that?