Tools Of Our Destruction

Her car breaks-down in an unfamiliar part of town, it’s late and it appears the rest of the world doesn’t exist. The streets are empty of humans, or any machine passing-by that could take her to safety. She has walked for miles, she is tired, and her body is rigid from the tenseness of staying hyper-aware with every step she takes; for she knows, this is not where she belongs.

It would be days before her family and the police find her, and they would all wonder why she was there, it was not safe, bad things could happen there.  She was found hanging in the basement of an old building. Her family would cry, grieve, and then angrily wonder; when will the color of your skin, no longer kill you.

She was so excited! She had received her very first invitation to her first teenage party and everything had to be perfect. She would spend hours buying a new dress, having her legs waxed, and last but not least; her facial hair waxed to cover the beard that was now in full growth. Her name was legally changed, from Max to Mackenzie, and she was flourishing with her new life, happier than she had ever been.

There was loud music and alcohol flowing from every room of the big house. She was uneasy, but sure that her invitation was sincere, and with that felt safe. Hours later, a group of kids would find her in the back yard, stripped of her dress, lying on the cold ground with a gash on the back of her head from a hammer-blow that she never saw coming.

Her family would cry, grieve, and then angrily wonder, why their child would be treated with hatred and intolerance, when she wanted nothing but to love and be loved for who she was in life. She didn’t live to know a day of tolerance; the day when the world would learn to love others who were different without fear and judgment.

They would all stand in a classroom, seemingly just like any other day, when suddenly the door would come crashing down, and a gun wielding mad-man would stand before them demanding to know their religious beliefs. One by one they would be asked and would answer “I am a Christian” and one by one, they would fall for their sacrifice and beliefs.  

Their families would cry, grieve, and then angrily wonder, how has this day come that their loved ones believing in their God would cause them to meet Him long before they should have been ready.

This isn’t about gun control - it’s about a rope, a hammer, and a gun; used with racism, hatred and intolerance. Our nation has to accept the responsibility that we’ve failed in our job of raising a generation of people with the fundamentals of human compassion and love for all.

Killing people for their sexual/gender orientation, their skin color, or the God that they believe in, are the headline captions every day, as the rising death-count silently pleads; wake-up America, before it’s too late.