From Tragedy to Triumph: 30 Years Later

Thirty years ago today, I was sitting in Mrs. Wilson’s math class when the principal came in with an announcement that would change our lives. I didn’t know it then, but that moment would leave a lifelong mark — not just on Oklahoma, but on my heart as well.

That day, my classmate Blayne Spencer was called out of class. I remember it clearly. I had a middle school crush on her. What none of us knew then was that she was about to face unimaginable loss. Her mom, Dr. Margaret “Peggy” Clark, was one of the 168 souls taken in the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building.

It hit all of us hard — our small town, our school, our church. Another woman from our congregation, Ronota Woodbridge, was also killed that day. Watching her husband Gary grieve was so hard to see. These weren’t just names on a list. These were people we worshipped with. Ate potluck next to. They were part of our community, our lives.

In the days that followed, my family went up to the family and friend shelters. I remember seeing a spider monkey being used as a comfort animal for us kids. I was just a kid myself, and somehow that tiny creature helped bring a little calm to all the confusion and fear. I remember they gave me a stuffed animal to hold and hug. It’s odd the things that stick with you.

I also remember the firefighters from New York who came to help. They didn’t know us, but they showed up. They cried with us. Worked alongside our first responders. They hugged our hurting city tight. That kindness never left me.

Years later, after 9/11, my wife Haylee (my girlfriend at the time) and a group from Oklahoma Christian, traveled to New York City to return the love. We brought cookies, served in soup kitchens, and visited firehouses. I just felt like we owed it to them — a simple “thank you” for standing with us when we needed it most.

And here’s what’s incredible: Blayne Spencer — that same girl who lost her mom — grew up to become Blayne Arthur, Oklahoma’s first female Secretary of Agriculture. She could’ve folded under the weight of grief, but instead she rose. She’s leading, serving, making a difference. That’s resilience. That’s what Oklahomans, New Yorkers, Americans are made of.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in these last 30 years, it’s that grief may break us for a while, but it doesn’t have to define us. We can rebuild. We can support each other. We can find hope in the smallest acts — even from a cute little monkey with a quiet presence or a stranger with soot on his face and a New York accent.

So today, I just want to honor the lives we lost, the people who stood by us, and the power of love to pull us through even the darkest of days. Let’s keep showing up for each other. Let’s be the hands and feet of Jesus to those who are hurting.

In America we are so divided. Now is the time to come together in unity and not require another tragic event to bring us together.

Never forget. Always love. Remember.