“Hold me fast, let me stand, in the hollow of thy hand, keep me safe, till the storm passes by.”
You know how you can tell that it’s noon in Roanoke without a watch? Three things happen, and these three things define us as a city.
At noon, not a second before or a second late, the horn blares across the Norfolk Southern rail yard. The rail yard horn can be heard for miles. It signals to the railroad workers that it’s lunchtime. The workers scurry to eat their lunch and a second horn will always blare right at 12:30 to get the railroad workers back to work.
At noon, after the clock chimes twelve times, Greene Memorial United Methodist Church on the corner of 2nd and Church street plays hymns over the loudspeakers. Much like the rail yard horn, these hymns can be heard for miles. Roanoke is treated to the bell recordings of the classic hymns of John Wesley for all to hear.
At noon, 94.9 Star Country always plays the Star Spangled Banner. The station then plays a recording of children reading the Pledge of Allegiance. It’s something to remind you of the fact that we do live in the best country on Earth.
I have had the privilege of calling Roanoke home for going on 3 years, and plan to stay as long as the Lord allows.
I’m also a former Franklin County resident, and a Ferrum College Alumni. I have fond memories of going to Smith Mountain Lake, especially helping with the first campaign I ever worked on. Senator Bill Stanley’s first re-election in 2011 sent me campaigning all over Franklin County.
That is why the shooting Wednesday has broken my heart. It’s like a dark cloud has been hung over our city, blocking out the joy in the lives of Roanokers. The city is dark, even in the middle of they day.
I pray for the families of the two young people who died. They were my age. They had their entire life lives ahead of them.They were doing what they loved to do.They did not deserve to die, much less on camera. They did not deserve to die while their loved ones watched in horror.
Yet there are certain people who won’t let us mourn our loss. It’s necessary for them to make a point for their own political gains. Never let us grieve in peace. Never let us mourn. No: they need to remind the electorate who they are.
Heartbroken and angry. We must act to stop gun violence, and we cannot wait any longer. Praying for the victims’ families in Virginia. -@HillaryClinton
Mrs. Clinton, all due respect, just for once, mind your own business. Let us grieve. Let us catch our breath. Let us pray for the loss. Let us hug our families. Let me call my wife and tell her that I love her before you shove your liberal doctrine down my throat.
This isn’t the first time that this has happened. Every campaign season in Virginia, it’s required that someone remind us of April 16th. The tragic shootings at Virginia Tech, and the constant need to bring it up for political purposes, have never left the minds of the Democratic Party. They have to take the wound on the heart of Southwest Virginia, open it back up, and pour salt in it one more time. Terry McAuliffe, Tim Kaine, and President Obama are all guilty. They come down to Southwest Virginia and rub it in our face that the most senseless act of violence ever on a college campus happened here. Here, where it’s a conservative end of the world. Where we protect ourselves with prayers to God and a shotgun. It’s imperative in the minds of all the members of the Democratic Party to remind Southwest Virginians they are not competent enough to protect themselves.
Why can’t we just grieve? Why can’t we leave the gun debate to another day?
Remember Roanoke for the rail yard horn, or the church bells, or the Star Spangled Banner on the radio.
Remember these two young people for their smiles, their hard work, and their lives of service to provide the news to the Roanoke Valley.
Remember them, and Roanoke, for any other reason than this heinous act of violence.
I began this piece with the words of an old hymn called “Till the Storm Passes By.” I grew up Independent Baptist, so the music sang in church came from what we called the “Red Back Baptist Hymnals.” And every time there was someone in the congregation going through a hard time or a struggle in life, we would sing.
“‘Til the storm passes over,
‘Til the thunder sounds no more;
‘Til the clouds roll forever from the sky,
Hold me fast, let me stand,
In the hollow of Thy hand;
Keep me safe ’til the storm passes by.”
So I would ask that you pray that the Lord would keep us safe till the storm passes by. And for once let us grieve while burying our fellow Roanokers.
