Patching the quilt

Our community suffered a traumatic event last week that left two children without a mother or a father and a father and his daughter taken within seconds. A corner of that protective quilt that covers a community was ripped away forever.

If residents were living here thinking that kind of thing will never happen here, it certainly did and could quite possibly again. The question now becomes can we sew the corner of that quilt back together and move on, because in reality, we are all in this together.

And despite the tragedy and the images portrayed in documenting this piece of local history, there may even be a tremendous opportunity waiting in the wings in the aftermath of four lives having ended so thoughtlessly and traumatically.

A recent report – the Community Health Improvement Plan compiled by the Health Planning Council of Northeast Florida – states the obvious. The report cites mental health and mental disorders and substance abuse as the No. 1 and No. 2 issues, respectively, impacting Clay County that need to be addressed by healthcare professionals.

The facts of Murray Leon Lancaster’s life reflect these needs as well. Police clearly know that Lancaster had been drinking heavily that day and night in March when he was charged with simple battery and resisting an officer. Facts also tell us that he had lost his job at Georgia Pacific in Palatka and that he had been scheduled for a court appearance the day of the shooting. We also know that a judge had issued a no-contact order barring Lancaster from any form of communication with the victim. The only thing we don’t know is what was going through his mind the day of his rampage.

Our hearts go out to the community. The greater question now becomes whether the community will come together in earnest to develop solutions – patch that quilt back together – or continue to believe that acts like these could never happen here again.

While I have never suffered an act of violence like this on my family, the trauma is there.

I grew up with a father who simply did the best he could while living with a mental health diagnosis. I told myself repeatedly as a child that I never wanted to be like him. Yet, in reality, he and every other person I spent significant time with in my formative years, helped shape who I am today.

My siblings and I used to run away from him in fear when he’d break into a fit of rage and, when he was stable, I’d actually appreciate the time he and I spent together. When he was calm, he could tell tall tales of family members long passed and was also pretty good at telling jokes.

And then, there was Aunt Sudie who, in June 1970, moved across the cornfield to live in the house with us.

Great Aunt Sudie and Great Uncle Frank(he was my grandfather’s brother) shared a home with my grandparents and when Granny Cravey died in 1970, Aunt Sudie just sort of showed up.

Born in 1899, she had helped raise my father and influenced much of his life. However, as adults, they often had their own unique disagreements. That happens in families and it happens in communities. I knew she forgave my father albeit the toughest act we’re called upon to do. Never shy of offering advice, Aunt Sudie’s pearls of wisdom flowed often and without second thought.

“Watch out for the other fella’,” she’d shout after I got my driver’s license.

If she ever heard us discuss any kind of disagreement from the school day, she’d offer up more assistance. “Do good for evil,” she’d say.

Every night, we’d see her tucked away in a corner under a dim lamp reading the Bible. Although she had opted out of attending regular worship services, she lived a faithful life as an example.

Whether she was explaining that “Two wrongs don’t make a right” or telling one of us that “The devil wears a hypocrite shoe, if you’re not careful, he’ll put one on you.”

Now comes the opportunity to heal. And remember, we all have to live together.