The Panera Bread Shooting – Four Years Later – Remember God

Sometime in mid-January I begin to feel in my bones that this day is coming. I’m never surprised by it; the day doesn’t hang over my head or lurk around every turn. But I feel it coming.

And when I feel the day coming, I begin to write. Writing about this day is a way for me to remember, to process, and to honor Pat Dailey and Mark Logsdon. Except this year, was different. This year, I wasn’t sure if I would write at all. The words I’ve been writing in this season aren’t meant for an audience. I didn’t expect today’s words to be any different. But then, I remembered…I really remembered.

Once the calendar turns to February 10, I live in the tension of feeling gratitude and heartache at the same time. By the end of the day, I’m mentally and emotionally exhausted and ready for the calendar to turn to February 11.

Even though I’ve done so much to work through the trauma of the day, I remember the day and the details well.

“Greater love has no man than this that he lay down his life for his friends.”

And when I think of Jesus doing that for me, I can somehow reconcile it within myself. To die on the cross was the reason he came to earth, he was fulfilling prophecy, and Jesus calls me a friend.

But two police officers?

I didn’t know them. They didn’t know me. They were “making contact” as it was called — not anticipating the day would be deadly.

But friends are what the officers have become.

Heroes.

Names forever engraved onto my heart.

Three years ago, I woke up early in the morning of the day I was going to see a psychiatrist for the first time. I was really upset about this appointment. I had done all the things, said all the prayers, met with pastors and counselors, and still, I was being smothered by a fog that wouldn’t lift.

And in the early morning, I felt the Holy Spirit whisper, “if hope is your anchor, joy is your promise.”

So I anchored myself to hope. Truthfully, it wasn’t much hope but something was better than nothing.

Over time, the fog began to lift. I started to laugh and enjoy life again. Joy was the promise. And joy I was given.

Maybe I say all of that to simply say this — God is good. It sounds cliché, I know. But I say it with an authority – with some credentials behind it, if you will. I say that as someone who has been through hell before and, to be transparent with you, I’m going through a bit of a hell now. So in this season I’ve asked Him to remind me He’s good and to show me His goodness and His kindness.

Because in my humanness, sometimes I can’t find His divine goodness. It's not that it isn't there...my vision gets blurred and I don't see it clearly. As recently as last week, I couldn’t find His goodness. But I asked Him again to show me His goodness…and He was just as faithful as always. There’s a sweetness to His goodness. And once you taste His goodness, everything else is bitter.

I keep a list in my phone of His goodness. I call it, “Remember God” and under the title is this verse:

“But then I recall all you have done, O Lord;

I remember your wonderful deeds of long ago.

They are constantly in my thoughts.

I cannot stop thinking about your mighty works.”

Psalms 77:11-12 NLT

Tonight, when I write on my list of ways God was good to me today, I will write the names of the friends who have remembered me on this day. They've prayed with and for me, sent cards, texts, and messages throughout the day. These friends on this day are reminders of God's goodness to me. I'm so grateful.

Even when gratitude and heartache co-exist within my heart, He is good and He is faithful and His goodness is sweet.

God Has Answered

November 20 will always and forever be a date that is seared into my memory. I’ve been thinking about this date for weeks. Unsure of the emotion this day would bring but fully aware that there is a Jenna that existed BEFORE this date and a different Jenna AFTER this date.

We’d been trying to have a baby for just over a year. Looking back, that isn’t a very long time. But at the time, it felt like an eternity. Perhaps, especially, because I got pregnant with Ethan VERY quickly then when we decided to have another baby, it just wasn’t happening. When we finally did get pregnant, after several months, it ended in a miscarriage.

It would have been easy to believe the lies that the enemy so often wanted to whisper in my ears. Lies like Ben and I were somehow being punished or I wasn’t meant to be a mother and several others. Honestly, I was beginning to feel sad about it and I was learning to say, “okay, Lord, if all you give us is one child, I’m okay with that. I trust you.”

Then one night last fall we found out that Ben’s brother and sister-in-law were expecting a baby. I literally could not stop screaming when I saw the bandannas they’d tied around their dogs’ necks. I couldn’t stop screaming long enough to say why I was screaming, I couldn’t stop screaming to hug them, I couldn’t stop screaming when everyone told me to stop screaming. I was so excited!!

But, before we left their house that evening, Ben and I both began to feel the sadness set in. It was bittersweet — we were so excited for them but equal parts sad for us. It felt hard. It was hard. We hadn’t shared with anyone but our parents about the miscarriage earlier in the year and we wanted a baby so badly. I remember saying to Ben when we got home, “I want to baby so our baby can grow up with their baby.”

I got in the shower and I remember saying out loud, “do you see me, God? I just need to know you see me and hear me that’s all.” As we got into bed that night, a Facebook message popped up on my phone. It was from someone who attends the same church we do. I can still remember her exact message:

“Hi Jenna. This is —— from —— campus. I just feel to tell you that, the God you serve and love, sees you and knows your heart and wants you to know he hears you, he is near and will fulfill his promise to you.”

This message still gives me the chills. This person and I had only ever met once months prior, we’d never communicated outside of that introduction, she had no idea we’d been trying to have a baby, she didn’t know about our miscarriage (at the time only our parents knew about it), and she definitely didn’t know the joy and sadness we were feeling in that exact moment.

And, did you catch it? She said, “will fulfill his PROMISE (not promises) to you.” This was a prophetic word about one specific promise. She had no idea about what promise that was — but we knew exactly what it was.

My response to her, “You can’t even know how timely this word is. It is exactly what I needed tonight. Exactly. Thank you so much. I can’t even thank you enough.”

One month later, November 20 — the due date of the baby we lost — we found out that I was pregnant. I couldn’t even believe it. He’d been faithful. He’d been beautifully faithful.

Right around that time, Ben’s brother and sister-in-law had a gender reveal party — they were having a girl! A few months later we learned we’d be having a girl. Not only was God giving us babies to raise together, but also two GIRLS to raise together further answering my desire to have children who would grow up together.

I don’t know what promise you’re waiting for God to fulfill. Maybe it’s a baby or a relationship, a job, healing, redemption, restoration, freedom, a loved ones salvation, anything. Maybe you’re getting tired of praying for the same thing over and over and over again. I get it. But I know this — He WILL fulfill His promise to you. And if you ever question it (and I don’t think it’s a bad thing to be honest with our God) you need look no further than the little baby we name Eliana — her name means, “God has answered.”

The Panera Bread Shooting - Three Years Later - Free

On a cold day in November, we met. She was wearing a red coat and clutching her Bible.

When our eyes met, she said my name, “Jenna?”

We hugged. Tightly. Neither of us wanting to be the first to let go. Tears flowed freely. Freedom was coming.

We ordered bagel sandwiches and found a table.

I wanted to hear every detail of her story.

Neither of us knew that she didn’t know why I wanted to meet her. It wasn’t until hours into our meeting that we realized what neither of us knew:

I’d been there. I’d heard the gunshot. I’d watched him fall. I’d run so hard and so fast my legs ached from the adrenaline.

She covered her face as her eyes filled with tears and she started to sob, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.”

I pulled her hands into mine. It wasn’t her fault and I wanted her to know it - to FEEL it. I didn’t hold anything against her - I never had. I’d prayed for her and for the opportunity to meet her one day.

I never knew how or if that meeting would happen. This was only a meeting Jesus could bring together.

She’d been married to the gunman. She and their children were victims of his abuse and of his torment. Their marriage had ended years prior in a divorce and for a time they’d lived in fear of him until he was declared deceased.

But he wasn’t. For months he’d been lurking, watching.

And that day in February, she saw him in Panera. Life hadn’t been good to him. He hadn’t been good to life. But she recognized his face. She called her son and he’d gone there, too. Even spoken his name.

A short time later, boom, fall, run. Lives changed forever by a single moment.

I shared with her my journey since that day. I’d experienced grief and sadness that is unimaginable. Life felt heavy, dark, dreary. I’d seen a doctor and he’d given me medicine and it helped. Tremendously.

I’d found joy where grief had once resided and hope where fear has crept. Jesus had used that day to bring me to a place with Him that I’d never experienced, despite spending my life in church.

The story had been redeemed.

She cried. She said, “okay. I hear that. I receive it. You just set me free.”

Freed people free people.

We met as timid strangers linked by an evil day. We left as friends brought together by Jesus.

Loved. Redeemed. Free.

——

I’ll always remember February 10 as the day two men laid down their life for mine. My son was just an infant that February and the outcome for our family’s future could have been drastically different.

But thanks to the incredible bravery of Pat Dailey and Mark Logston, countless lives were spared.

These men are my heroes and there isn’t a day I don’t think of them and thank Jesus for them.

Today, as I always do on this day, I left flowers at Panera and on the hillside and at the memorial erected in the Box Hill Corporate Center. I’ll take a few moments at each place to honor and remember and give thanks - to Pat, to Mark, to Jesus.

The only men who have ever stood in a place I could or should have stood in. Only one has healed me. Mind, body, and spirit.

Three years later, I’m no longer a patient who has been diagnosed with Post-Traumatic-Stress. I’m off all medication, grief doesn’t creep, and fear doesn’t lurk around every corner.

I’m healed, I’m whole, and I’m free.

Due Date

Seven months ago we encountered a grief we’d never expected – we found out we were miscarrying a baby. I still grieve the little baby we will never know this side of heaven. But I take comfort in knowing three things: God is still on the throne, nothing is wasted, and we aren’t alone in this journey.

Thank you to the brave women who have shared your stories recently with me and on social media. You’ve comforted, encouraged, and inspired me through my own grief.

I wrote the words below the day after learning that our baby had stopped growing and I’m sharing our story today –on what would have been our baby’s due date, November 20, 2018.

Some days I struggle to find the same optimism that I wrote this blog with but every day, I choose joy. And joy is not always the easiest choice but it’s what I choose.

This is our story…

----------

Thursday morning, March 22, 2018 I awoke and quickly jumped out of bed.

There were two lines – TWO LINES!

I laid the test on Ben’s chest. It was faint but it was there. We celebrated and took a picture. I called the doctor and made an appointment. I’d be 8 weeks and 2 days along at the time of the appointment.

A few days later, I took another test and the word “pregnant” appeared. I was filled with joy.

Thursday, April 12 I awoke late because Ethan had been sick and up in the middle of the night. Ben took the day off work to accompany me to the doctor and since Ethan was sick he’d be tagging along, too.

We arrived, filled out some paperwork, and went into the sonogram room.

The tech asked me some questions and then I looked at her face. I asked, “do you see a baby?” She turned the screen towards me and said, “you’re only measuring at five weeks which means...” “there’s no baby.” I finished the sentence. “I’m so sorry,” she said, and her eyes welled up with tears.

Ethan, my precious, very aware, and very compassionate son, saw the look on my face and said, “Mommy. Mommy.” His eyes welled with tears. I told him it’s okay and he said, “I hold you” and he climbed onto my lap.

We were moved into another room to meet with the doctor. At just five weeks, our baby had stopped growing. By eight weeks, we should have seen a heartbeat and a little baby the size of a raspberry.

But that wasn’t to be.

We talked to the doctor and asked questions. The office staff couldn’t have been nicer or more compassionate. One blood draw later and we were on our way.

While we don’t know if the baby was to be a boy or a girl, I named her April Joy. April for the month we knew we’d be meeting her in heaven and Joy for the joy she brought to our lives.

I’m amazed at the sovereignty of God and his grace and mercy. One of my first thoughts after receiving the news was, “this is no surprise to Jesus.” I’m comforted in knowing that God is so much bigger than this and He’s already holding April Joy until we meet her one day. I never quite understood what it felt like to long for a place I’d never been but today, I long for heaven and the day we’ll meet our baby.

We know now that this probably means there was something abnormal with the pregnancy. And a miscarriage is my body’s way of protecting me. While we’ll probably never know exactly what the abnormality was, we do believe that it is God’s sovereignty that is allowing us to experience this pain verses a miscarriage later in the pregnancy which would be more dangerous for the baby and me.

I am sad, but I am grateful to know a God who loves me, who knows the hairs on my head, and has written His name on my heart. He’s still King and He still sits on the throne. As one of my favorite authors, Lysa Terkeurst says, “God is good, God is good to me, God is good at being God.”

Although I am sad and grieving, I know we’re held closely by the Father who holds our baby. I know He mourns with us, I know He entrusted a baby to us, and I believe that he’ll do it again. I will worship Him and thank Him for the baby who was “fearfully and wonderfully made.”

He makes all things work together for our good. I believe that the very core of my being.

"I will remain confident in this: I will see the goodness of the Lord." Psalm 27:13

----------

Most days I wear a necklace with an arrow hanging from it. Engraved on the side is Psalm 127 “Children are like arrows in the hands of a warrior.” It’s fitting that in October, on the Annual Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day, I added a second arrow. I needed something to remember our baby with; something to know the baby existed – that for a few short weeks there was another life growing inside of me.

Thank you for reading our story. You’ve been a part of our healing process and you’ve helped this to not feel quite so scary. If you’re facing infertility or a miscarriage or a loss, I’d love to hear your story. There is something powerful that happens when we vocalize our pain.

The Panera Bread Shooting – Two Years Later

Never have I spoken – much less written – so openly about this day two years ago. But God has redeemed my story and I can’t help but to share His redemption in my life.

Two years ago I walked into Panera Bread and left running for my life. A man had pulled out a gun and shot a police officer. I’d been witness to the incident. I can still vividly remember the sound of the gunshot, someone yelling “9-1-1! He’s got a gun!” and the adrenaline rushing through my body. I remember grabbing my computer and bag and running. I ran out of the door and around the building praying that the gunman wouldn’t come around the corner towards me. I jumped the fence and at the end of the sidewalk there was a mama with her young son. As calmly as I could, I looked her in the eyes and said, “RUN.” Running to my car, my legs burned so severely because of the adrenaline pumping so fast and I began praying out loud, “Lord please save me. Please see fit to save me. Please, please save me.” I made it to my car – keys in hand which is a miracle in and of itself. I threw my computer and bag into the front seat, backed out of the parking spot, and called Ben in hysterics. One of the last things I remember seeing is a man in a gray suit. Later, I would find out that he was following the gunman.

One year later, Ben and I walked back into the Panera Bread for the first time. I showed him exactly where I was sitting that day. I cried when I saw a single white rose placed on the table where Senior Deputy Pat Dailey was sitting. I said I’d never go back into that or any other Panera Bread. Ben said that was okay – I didn’t have to do it ever again if I didn’t want to.

But, you see, God writes the most beautiful stories. They’re filled with adventure and excitement joy and pain and most beautifully, redemption. The day of the shooting, God began to redeem my story. One year and a few months after the incident, I was medically diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD as it’s more commonly known. From the day of the incident to a year and a few months later I struggled daily to go anywhere, especially in loud places with crowds. I lived in fear – the kind that cripples you and makes it nearly impossible to get out of bed – fear was my king and it was also my prison.

With the help of my husband and people God has positioned in my life, I was able to take some healthy steps to manage my PTSD. After a couple of months, it no longer took me hours to get out of bed and I didn’t call Ben every afternoon sobbing and filled with crippling fear. I began to love again, to walk in freedom, and I overthrew the king of fear who had reigned in my life for far too long.

Then, last fall, I read Becoming MomStrong by Heidi St. John and her words resonated with me so deeply. I knew a MomStrong Mom was the kind of mom I wanted to be – the kind of WOMAN I wanted to be known for. I began to find my voice again – to speak truth in love and to love and encourage the women God had placed in my life. I knew this had to be God because this isn’t who I am in my flesh.

Then, one day, the Lord started to suggest that I go back to the very Panera Bread I’d run from. The restaurant is less than a mile from our home and we drive by it almost every day. Overtime, the idea of going back didn’t seem daunting or scary and I even started to think about how nice it would be to have a cup of soup and read a book on a cold winter afternoon by the fireplace. This, I knew, could only be God. Then, I started to think about Becoming MomStrong and how this book would benefit so many others and in the course of a couple days, it was made crystal clear that God was asking me to lead a Community Group. Becoming MomStrong was the book and Panera Bread was the place.

So one Sunday after church I asked Ben if we could just go into Panera Bread. We went right then and little Ethan ran through the Panera Bread and was sure to stop at the bakery to look at the “cake cake.” I walked to the back of the restaurant and just stood for a moment remembering that fateful day. Thanking God for His goodness, for His mercy, and for His protection. Then, we left.

The enemy could no longer claim Panera Bread as a place of fear in my life. This time, I sent him running from the building.

We came home and I was sure I’d be hosting a Community Group called Becoming MomStrong at Panera Bread. I looked at the calendar and our first meeting would be today, Saturday, February 10, 2018 – two years to the day of the shooting.

Only God.

He redeemed this story. He took back what the enemy stole from me on February 10, 2016 and today, February 10, 2018, some sister-girls and I became stronger women, wives, and mamas as we dove into Becoming MomStrong together.

I don’t know what the enemy has taken from you but I know the God who gives it all back more beautifully than we could ever imagine. He is our redeemer.

"We have hope as an anchor for the soul, both sure and steadfast."

Hebrews 6:19

Pressing On

Personal conviction...I don’t get out of bed before 7am 😉Except when the time changes, I’m wide awake at 6am 😳 And now that colder weather is here, it’s hard to get out of the warm bed and dark room.

But then I remember that what I don’t have is what I want and what I want is downstairs in a pink leather-bound book. So I pull myself out of bed and stagger downstairs but not without first donning 65 layers of warm clothes. I turn on some worship music and ask God to meet me. And He does, every time. He’s so faithful - He can’t not be faithful.

What I write in this space isn’t any magic formula. It’s simply writing what God is teaching me. It’s sharing the - f r e e d o m - He’s brought to my life. And His freedom is for everyone, which I why I can’t not share it. To keep it inside would becoming a crippling burning within me.

Nor is what’s shared in this space for believing I’m better or more forgiven than the next person. I’m so much more aware of my shortcomings and the places I need grace and mercy than I ever used to be. Sometimes the Lord brings something to the surface that I just do not want to deal with. But in His ever kind and loving way, He “leads me beside still waters and restores my soul” (Psalm 23:2-3) so in the quiet morning hours we go there. He convicts, He heals, He restores, He frees.

Today, I encourage you to create the space for Jesus. It doesn’t have to be pretty or perfect. It just has to be you and Him. He will honor the time you spend with Him. He’ll lavish His love on you. And He’ll restore to you everything that’s ever been taken from you. He is freedom.

All Good

Four years ago we stood under this sign on our honeymoon (top picture.) We - and the sign - looked very different on this trip than the last (bottom picture.) Four years ago, we’d just begun our journey as man and wife. I vividly remember the naivety through which I viewed our new beginning.

Four years later and I’ve been given the beautiful gift of perspective and time. A lot has happened in four years - some joyful, some heartbreaking but all good. It has all been good because every experience has shaped us and our marriage into what God has designed marriage to be - an earthly example of God’s love for his people and the church. How good He is to use broken people to reflect His perfect love in this world. Only God.

So thankful for a beautiful trip, delicious food, bottomless drinks, great shopping, lots of relaxation, and a little boy to go home to. Thanks to Granny, T, and Na-Na for taking such excellent care of Ethan. We are grateful for you!!