Like so many students who received the same breaking news, I had heard that there was a shooting at Marysville Pilchuck from a text my mother had sent me. “Shooting at Marysville Pilchuck!” she wrote. My lunch period had started and there was a weird and almost supernatural presence in the atmosphere. I observed a few kids crying from different corners of the commons. I imagined they were just praying for Marysville Pilchuck friends, hoping they would be reunited with safety; others were still eating their lunch and having their usual conversations during an unusual day of school. Once the bell for the end of the day had rung, I decided to do reporter coverage at the vigil service at the Grove Church that was scheduled to take place later that evening.

When I arrived, there was a gray overcast dripping small thin rain onto the street intersection of Grove Street and Liberty Avenue. Since I didn’t know the area well, I asked a father who was with his two daughters if this was the correct location for the vigil service, “Yes, this is the Grove Church. We’re a big community,” he said. He pointed to where the actual main entrance of the church was as his youngest daughter–maybe four or five-years-old–by the finger, began pulling him away. I turned the corner and there was the news broadcast vans from KIRO as well as the Grove Church establishment sign with the words “love, connect, serve”.

I waited in the main room of the church and as the minutes passed by, people slowly began to fill the building. There were many friends and families who were wearing jerseys and sweatshirts bearing the red and white tomahawk colors. Many others were wearing colors from different neighboring schools, including Arlington High School.

At about 6:00 pm, the double doors to the assembly room, where the service was to be held, opened. Several workers of the church pulled me aside and reminded me not to use the flash setting on my camera. There was a stage with instruments and microphones that were illuminated by a dozen or so candles placed a few inches from the cliff of the stage, surrounded by interweaving flowers.

The room began to exponentially fill. Some people, the moment they sat down, began sobbing and hugging those next to them (the mutual comforting between perfect strangers was not an uncommon action in the room). Despite how cheerful and smiling some people seemed to be before the doors opened, upon entering the religious hall they went through an instantaneous transformation and began to cry as well, as if they reserved their right to grieve only when they were not alone in a reserved sanctuary. Boxes of tissues were placed on seats and on the ends of each row by the legs of chairs.

Above the ground floor, a balcony overlooked the entire assembly room. There was a young teenage couple resting their heads on each others’ shoulder on the edge of the balcony; as well as a family with two daughters. One of the girls was wearing a red plaid shirt while the other wore a dark maroon sweatshirt with a black North Face vest (Again, showing Tomahawk colors). Off to the right side of the balcony seating area, a group of cheerleaders, wearing their unison red and white Tomahawk cheerleader uniforms sat together.

Returning to the ground floor, I noticed, off to the right of the stage, second row, that there were purple jerseys lining the seats. The football team of Oak Harbor, rivals of Marysville Pilchuck, had arrived to the vigil service. They were scheduled to play against Marysville Pilchuck the night of the shooting for the division title. Instead, in an act of class, they forfeited the game and came to the church out of respect for their opponents’ tragedy.

At 6:30 pm, roughly eight hours after the shooting, the service began. The room was so crowded that many people were standing against the church walls; some were peeking in through opened doors and windows, listening to the service in the cold air from outside. Members of the Red Cross were bringing in extra chairs from the church’s kitchen as well as small travel size bags of tissues. Many people in the congregation were holding small flowers, including red roses. Reverend Nik Baumgart, a Pilchuck graduate of ’93, walked onto the stage and began to speak.

There was an emotional shrill in his voice, “We’re broken,” he said. “We’re frustrated. There are kids I know that sat just a few feet away from this individual, but they ran out.” As Baumgart said this, a few Marysville Pilchuck students towards the front of the stage began to breathe heavily and tremble. I have to assume just by watching their body language that they were in the cafeteria several hours and heard the gunshots, turning their heads to see their classmate pointing a gun at others. They made it out though, and they were here now, reunited with their family and some of their classmates who were equally fortunate to have lived.

Over in Providence and Harbor View Medical Center there were a handful of injured students currently fighting for their lives. There is also the rest of the entire Marysville Pilchuck High School population who will eventually return to the same grim cafeteria to eat lunch.

“We gotta pray for every student at Marysville Pilchuck High School. No kid should have to see this stuff,” Baumgart said.

A small acoustic band was quietly strumming as Baumgart was speaking.

“What we can do tonight is open our arms and hug each other…and maybe that’s it tonight. But not one of us will grieve alone,” Baumgart said.

The leading vocalist of the band asked the crowd if they were willing to stand tonight and none appeared to still be sitting. He began to sing a religious folk song that I was completely unfamiliar with, but it still rang true to me. Every person of the room was standing; many raised their closed fists in song and prayer; others just had their heads solemnly bowed. Cries and sobs punctuated the room. Throughout the service, Baumgart would speak  and the band would provide background music, connecting their musical tone to his speaking mood. I could hear the people next to me quietly whisper prays. Some were saying, “Oh my god, why? Why is this happening? This isn’t real.”

Governor Jay Inslee, Snohomish County Executive John Lovich, Washington politician Rick Larsen and Marysville Mayor Jon Nehring visited as well. “The best part of my day is seeing this community…we’ll get through this. We’re gonna rally, we’re gonna come together,” Nehring said.

At this point, the church organizers of the event had asked that all news media leave the building. One news photographer was disobedient and belligerent and didn’t leave until a sheriff of Marysville instructed him to do so just by giving the a most stern look. There sheriff then turned to me. I saw his badge: Deputy Weinbaum. I thought he was going to ask me to leave right then and there.

“Are you part of the media?” Weinbaum asked.

“Nah, I’m just a journalist from Arlington High School,” I said.

“Enjoy. You look good,” he said.

After our brief conversation, I was wondering why he would let me stay for the vigil service. Furthermore, why did he say “enjoy”? I realized that I had mentioned to him that I was a high school student and a kid. As a matter of fact, I was wearing my blue Arlington Eagles sweatshirt that was a hand-me-down from my oldest brother.

Age is respected amongst people; therefore we look at our elders like revered and experienced mentors. But on the day of the shooting, adults were reminded just how pure children are, especially when they lose their own way through the trials tribulations that high school imposes. As a result, parents hugged their children a little tighter that night. “We love our kids,” Baumgart said.

As students, we become mindlessly numb as we go through the regular and perhaps boring school day. But in an instant, we can be pulled out of the cycle of repetition of our–in the grand scheme of things–uneventful lives and be faced with a coming of age challenge that can tear us to pieces. At that point, we have to reflect about who we are as individuals, and where and how we should take our next step.

Baumgart began to conclude the night’s vigil service. “Love covers over a multitude–what can we do beyond a Facebook post or like?” Baumgart asked.

Next, Baumgart asked all current students of Marysville Pilchuck High School to raise their hands. Too many young hands raised the air. There were simply too many victims of this tragedy. Though, I can vividly recall that there wasn’t any shy timidness during this physical action. All students stood side by side and raised their hands, proud to be Marysville Pilchuck Tomahawks. They would refuse to let this tragedy curse their school name community with a negative connotation because they are not only courageous, but graceful under pressure.

Towards the end of the service, the vocalist of the  band led the congregation in singing “Amazing Grace” twice. The first time around, it was a quietly subtle humming version of the tune. During the repeat, however, some raised their voices more confidently, and in turn, more members of the congregation projected their voices louder, louder and louder.

Once the ceremony was over, some remained in their seats still trying to collect themselves, but many emptied out of the rows and walked outside for a breath of fresh cold night air. Red Cross had a few distinguished members, specifically trained to help communities in the aftermath of a school shooting, offer counseling for those struggling in post-tragedy depression and trauma. Baumgart and many other adults had established themselves as worthy figures for consoling spiritual advice, who were willing to just listen and comfort broken hearts.

Used tissues and broken fragments of red flower petals were littered on the floor. I stood for a while, watching the congregation dissolve. By the front of the stage, a group of eight or so Marysville Pilchuck students huddled together with their arms around each other. What was said amongst them–if anything was said–is unknown to me, but I reckon it was a rare moment of warming reassurance and compassion that some of us, as different as we all are, struggle to tap into.

Our community has faced grave misfortunes like this before with the Oso mudslide. And nothing is more damaging and shocking than a tragedy that strikes too close to home and into the hearts of everyone. And if we aren’t cautious, a calamity such as this can be the turning point and downfall of a harmonious community that we have so positively tried to establish. However, if we have proved anything in the past, it is that human beings are resilient, a quite remarkable quality that can turn adversity into an advantage.

American author Ernest Hemingway once said that “the world breaks everyone and afterward, many are strong in the broken places.” This sentiment can vibrate through any community that has suffered a loss of innocence as a result of a school shooting or any other tragedy that is similar in level of devastation.

Outside by the street, the church was pounded by a heavy rain as if it were a tearful release from God. And as many family members and friends left, they turned around to see the Grove Church’s cross shine above the street intersection, which probably meant to them as a symbolic light at the end of a dark tunnel. They all traveled back home and went to bed, anticipating for a better and brighter tomorrow.