End of Watch

What can be said at this point? Words won’t change what has already happened. Can they possibly change what will happen in the future?  I shared my thoughts after Deputy Parrish was killed in the line of duty just 5 short weeks ago. Since then 2 more deputies have been killed and several other officers wounded, and that’s just here in Colorado.  Each death has been felt heavily in the law enforcement community, each successive loss seeming to be cumulative, with no lessening of feeling due to familiarity.  

I didn’t know any of these men personally, only sharing the bond of wearing a badge for a living, the strength of which has surprised me.  I have found relatability to these brave officers, with them being close to my age (between 29 and 34), married, and two of them with young children.  I’ll be honest; these deaths have shaken me and scared me.  While I love my job and it provides me an opportunity to do amazing things, the fact that I could become a target because of a piece of metal that I pin to my shirt is a sobering thought.

Senseless tragedy.  You hear it often, but do we stop to think about it?  If an officer is killed while taking down a drug house, or in a shootout with a murder suspect it is as tragic as any death in the line of duty. But there is some sense to it, some reasonable seeming motive behind the aggressor’s actions.  Millions of dollars of drugs or a life sentence or even the death penalty could be construed as rational reasons for taking the life of another. Deputy Parrish was killed responding to a welfare check. Senseless. Deputy Gumm was killed responding to a disturbance call. Senseless. Deputy Flick was killed while investigating a stolen car. Senseless.  How can a 19-year-old kid decide that a stolen car is worth a man’s life? How can a couple months of jail time justify in anyone’s mind taking a father from his twin 7-year-old children? 

This senselessness stems from a society that has grown callous and subtly hostile towards law enforcement.  We vilify and crucify officers involved in shootings that are instantly labeled unjustified, without knowing all the facts first, without having been subjected to the split-second life or death decisions made in that moment.  Let me clarify that in no way am I suggesting police are above the law, or that thorough investigations should not take place. However, why do we not trust the men and women sworn to protect us as default?  Why do we not extend the basis for American law, innocent until proven guilty, to the officers who are putting their lives on the line?  Why do we let an embittered mob society and click-bait driven media allow us to question highly skilled and intensely trained professionals?  

Other negative sentiments seem more innocuous, but nonetheless have the same detrimental effect.  “How comes whenever I see a police care I feel paranoid rather than protected?” It’s a popular caption I’ve seen bandied around on Facebook.  “Speed traps are just revenue generators.” “They are just trying to get their ticket quota for the month.” When even simple speed limit enforcement is viewed as an unjust oppression it becomes the root for the tree of disrespect that casts a long shadow over the work law enforcement is trying to do.  What seems a harmless infraction to many, and an annoyance to those caught must be viewed through the eyes of those enforcing it.  While you were just trying to make up time because you were late to wherever, that officer was making sure he didn’t have to see it again. “It” is the limp body of a child he pulled from a car that rolled. “It” is being first on scene to a car crumpled against the guard rail with unmoving passengers inside. “It” is a car on fire while the officer desperately, helplessly calls for an engine.  “It” is the uniform he has to throw away because it’s stained with blood from the first aid he rendered.  All because the driver was going “just 5 over.”  

So what do we, as a society, do? Crime won’t stop, that is as guaranteed as death and taxes. What we can do, what we must do, is begin to treat our law enforcement with not only the respect they deserve, but also with the gratitude they have earned. Instead of awkwardly avoiding eye contact with them, give them a smile. Get out of your comfort zone, walk up to them, shake their hand, and thank them for their service. Let them know they are making a positive difference. For one, you may be the encouragement they need.  I know in light of these recent losses many officers are asking themselves if they can do this another day, another year, can they hang in there till retirement, can they stand the risk of leaving their family in the morning with no guarantee they will be home that night.  Without exception I bet every officer would answer the question “Why are you a police officer?” with the standard, yet honest, “Because I want to help people.” Your simple interaction will go further to convincing them that they are doing just that than you can possibly know. Secondly, if you reach out to those people with badges on their official looking uniforms and their Batman-utility-belts, you might just be surprised to realize that under it all is a mom, a dad, brother, sister, son, daughter, husband, wife. A person, just like you or me, who answered an inner calling to serve others.  They laugh, they love, they hurt, they cry.  They are imperfect people doing an incredibly difficult job, sacrificing their health, time, and personal ambition in the desire to aid the greater good. 

To my brothers and sisters in blue; stay safe, thank you for all you do, and go home each night.  Reach out to those around you, we are family and family are made for difficult times.  We can get through this, together, stronger.

To those outside law enforcement; you play a vital role in preventing tragedies like this from happening again.  Let us rise above the status quo of recent years and return to a country that cherishes law and order, that respects those who protect us.  Let us remember Deputy Zackari Parrish, Deputy Heath Gumm, and Deputy Micah Flick.  Let us vow that the lessons learned from their deaths will not be forgotten, and we will remember and honor them by lifting up our law enforcement personal in our daily prayers, thoughts, and most importantly, respecting them in our actions. 

To Deputy Micah Flick; the night you were killed I tucked my son into bed. He asked me to cuddle and I certainly wasn’t going to refuse him on a day like this.  As I lay down beside him, his small arm draped across my neck, his warm breath spreading across my face as I stared into his eyes, my own clouded with tears, all I could think was “Thank you.”  Because of your incredible sacrifice I went home safe.  Because of your years of service my family was safer.  “Thank you” are simple words, and they are much too little for what you have given us, but they are all I have.  Rest in peace Deputy Micah Flick, we have the watch from here.

Inner Beauty

“The day-to-day stress and busyness have me running over the sacred ground in my life, thoughtlessly trampling those delicate places. I become worn and hardened as I focus on efficiency rather than beauty, on productivity rather than meaning.  Our modern life is one of incessant activity, which leaves us breathless and harried. We live by the old idiom, ‘Don’t let the grass grow under your feet’ without realizing we are killing any green and hopeful thing in our life.”

Those words were written, not by a world renown philosopher or poet, but by a photographer. Erik Stensland is probably the premiere photographer in Rocky Mountain National Park, and one who’s work I admire greatly.  His latest book, Whispers in the Wilderness, is a collection of his reflections paired with his photography.  This post isn’t meant to be a plug for his book (but you really should pick up a copy, it is fantastic), but several of his thoughts have spurred my own thoughts on what the outdoors and nature mean to me.

While this last year was busy and filled with changes and challenges, both large and small, I had ample opportunity to step out into the wild parts of Colorado. Whether it was exploring new forests through the window of a patrol truck, backpacking deep into the wilderness in search of mountain goats, fishing new streams and lakes, or taking the camera out for a stroll through RMNP, I didn’t realize how much these moments in the cathedral of nature meant at the time.

Life has thrown its punches, tried to pull me back from wilderness nirvana, and drizzled frustration on a sour serving of disappointment. Add to this the hectic holiday season, a temporary move, and an uncertain future, and suddenly the lush green memories of the previous year’s outdoors memories were looking dry, brown, and trampled.

How do we avoid this? We all face setbacks and heartbreaks, sometimes at a daunting pace, sometimes dwarfed by the sheer enormity of the trials.  The solution is different in practice for everyone, but the answer remains the same: beauty.  For some it may be creating beauty, through photography, painting, sculpting, writing, sewing, gardening, or drawing.  For others it may be simply enjoying beauty; going to a stage production, sitting and watching the sunset, visiting an art gallery, or reading a novel.  When confronted with this beauty we must respond by looking inside ourselves and finding the inner beauty. I don’t mean that in some “you’re beautiful on the inside” pep-talk way. Rather, I mean we must find the beauty that exists in inspiration, hope, love, and goodwill.  These desires, beliefs, and feelings we carry inside us must be acknowledged and pursued.  The beauty of the external world needs to drive us to nurture the beautiful things inside us. 

For me, that catalyst is the outdoors. Surrounded by towering peaks, stout pine trees, and the particular smell of an aspen grove, the weight of tomorrows worries can drift away, as if they were waiting for the thin, crisp, mountain air to give them space to float off. In the subtle mountain silence, the nagging voice of concern and self-doubt are muted. Here, enveloped in nature, while my visual gaze is distracted by the rapturous beauty bombarding it, my souls gaze can turn towards those places of inner beauty.  Here, I can give those neglected, malnourished, and parched desires of my heart the attention and restoration they need without anything else trampling them to dust.

Where is it you find beauty?  Search for it, desperately. Don’t let your dreams and hopes wilt under the scorching skies of “tomorrow” or “someday.” Refuse to let the tender petals of the blossoming flower of desire be squashed by the boots of “being reasonable," “unobtainable,” or even "forbidden." The beauty inside yourself, those withering places of longing and yearning in your soul, depend on it.