Anniversary. Sanctuary. I thought I knew what those words meant.

I thought I knew what darkness looked like, sounded like, felt like. The shooting changed all that. I was there; I know darkness now to a depth I didn't know existed five years ago.

I know now that things I thought were important before the shooting weren't and aren't. I know now that two lives ended too soon and many others were changed in unspeakable ways. I know now there is no safe place - if a church on Sunday morning during a children's play isn't safe . . . . I know now that there are those whose exhortations fed Adkisson's anger and his hatred.

I also know now that right now is what I've got, and it is precious. I know now that knowing what darkness looks like brings light into sharper focus and intensity. I know now that evil did not prevail on that day - he carried over seventy more shells into our church that he could not use because of the courage of people close enough to him to stop him. I know now that we were offered love and peace and healing by our community and that whatever differences exist among our faiths meant nothing whatsoever on that day and the days following.

I know now that more guns is not the answer.