“Marie, this just happened this afternoon. I’m wondering if our parents know anyone there.” 

This unexpected text from a close friend jolted me from my peaceful, picture-perfect SoCal Sunday. Suddenly, the news of a shooting at a Taiwanese church in Laguna Woods became very personal. More texts trickled in about elderly friends — those I grew up calling auntie and uncle — who were there for the worship service but left early, and then one who was present when the shooting occurred during their luncheon. 

Amahs and agongs, like those whom our family had shared many meals with and gathered for Bible study in my childhood home, now were attacked in a senseless act of violence. 

Tension permeated my whole body — my shoulders tightened, jaw clenched, exacerbating my TMJ, and tears streamed down my cheeks. I found it difficult to concentrate, my heart heavy with the weight of it all. I kept checking the news, looking at my phone, wondering and hoping that there wouldn’t be any more names added to the list. 

I felt shocked and grieved that this tragedy could happen in the same church building where my sister had her wedding. How could a place of joyous celebration become such a place of deep grief?

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