It was a dark and stormy night. The wind was howling, the rain pounding down like it would never stop.
Sitting in church on the night of 25 July 1993 (21 years ago), listening to a solo being sung when the doors suddenly opened. Wild gun fire, hand grenades going off all over the place . . . everyone fell to the ground between the pews.
A bullet made a “zing” sound as it bounced off the pew in front of me, over my back across the pew behind me.
My mom, next to me, beside herself screaming because my little baby sister was not sitting with us at the time, she was sitting further back in the church with her friend and her family (the mother was killed by a hand grenade, we discovered afterwards).
When people find out that we were actually in church that fateful night and survived, they often want us to repeat what happened. I’m grateful for the fact that we survived that fateful night.
Here’s a link to the video (summary) made by the church after the massacre for those who are interested . . .
