April 29th 2015. Hit and Run. Bike. Critical Condition. Confession. Charges. Waiting. Honors. Graduation. Waiting. Surgeries. Hope.
A couple of weeks ago, Rachel Hall, a Temple University graduate and student athlete fell victim to a hit and run tragedy, while riding her bike. If you’re looking for her in the picture, she is the one with the yellow helmet, our greatest defender. Local news and reporters will tell you the facts. Rachel had been riding her bike to study. The driver of the vehicle only possessed a permit, and left the scene immediately. His identity was only revealed after his parents recognized their car on television, based on the pending investigation. Online news sources will give you her jersey number, her major and degree of study. What they fail to report is Rachel, her heart and soul and her impact. Aside from quotes from the community, I hope to offer a personal testimoney on behalf of our lacrosse family, our hope for Rachel’s recovery and what she in fact meant to each and everyone one of us. My hope is that you feel connected to our Rachel’s heart, in addition to that number on the back of her jersey.
[…]
Crease. Shoot. Role. Push (not too hard). Dramatize. Foul. Slide.
Defend. Defend. Defend.
[Offense wins games; defense wins championships], as some wise person once said. But for personal reference, and sake of its beauty, I’ll pay its tribute and essence to my high school lacrosse coach, Conk.
Before you get nervous, and want to grab your running sneakers, remember that although biologically mother to FOUR, she has raised our entire lax family as well (this means a bunch of girls during those teen years…ouch); 40ish girls a season…you do the math.
DEFENSE: Constantly reading the field, marking our girls that were scouted, and screaming BALL like we were the seagulls on Finding Nemo. This was our job.
But our main mission, was to protect the goal; protect, more specifically the goalie, protect Rachel. As we were often reminded, it had to get through 11 standing (somewhat muscular) players, before it could go through her. So essentially, each goal scored against us was a team loss, not on the shoulders of our goalie. I really like the idea of this, ridding the pressure on one person. But somehow, it probably seemed a whole lot different when you are the one standing in the net, with helmet gear, padded gloves and yellow or white balls flying at you at impeccable speeds. I’m glad Jess Loizeaux and Michelle Tumelo were on our team. We will leave it at that.
Although we were an entire team of love, inside jokes and matching green and gold hair ribbons, CONK always made the additional effort to bond the defense. Instead of just 4 individuals, with a fifth defender in net, we were a unit.
We were the essence of trust. Together we fight, together we win.
Flash forward 4 years later, finished theses, distributed awards and honors. Together we fight, win and now lose, but this time loss wasn’t against the other group four teams in the region.
I woke to devastating texts and social media posts that one in THE UNIT was down. I just stared at the screen, in disbelief, continuing to scroll for updated information to disprove the horror. It was a hit and run accident. I kept saying that over and over. Hit and Run.
But this cannot be real, right? Nothing like this ever happens to people [you] know. It happens to the distant, imaginary people, the ones we watch on the news, to desensitize the probability of a tragedy such as this happening in real life; in other words our life. It cannot be.
Instantly, our old team started pulling together. Although there was not much we could do medically, Facebook pages were crafted and shared in her name, fundraisers were planned and banners hung in her honor at the games. I constantly kept thinking that I hoped people were praying as much as they talked about praying. She was in good hands, this we knew.
I sat in my bed in disbelief; graduation was a few short days away, I had my final college exam that morning. It had been [four years] since stepping on the field with her and the other view lax girls. Four whole years. Four years since Joe spray painted our names in the field, four years since the talent show and scavenger hunts. And in the blink of an eye, one of our own fell victim to an unexplainable crime. I looked down at the foot of my bed, and noticed the purple and gold knotted blanket that I slept with every night. Anyone who has been in my room in the last four years, knows that there is a system to this whole sleeping thing. I not only have a top sheet, I also have a fleece, a down comforter, AND tons of pillows to burrow in at night. But every night, although wrapped so tightly, I slept with my knotted purple and gold, JMU themed blanket.
This blanket saw a lot of things over the years. It brought me warmth in the winter, and comfort when I was homesick. It was a make-shift kleenex box when I found out my brother would be deployed to Afghanistan. It was my late night study buddy in the kitchen until 3 o’clock in the morning, studying for that gosh darn physics exam that had nothing to do with my major. It was my sleepover blanket, when having a night in with the girls, bonding and laughing and most likely crying [I’m sure].
Rachel made this blanket for me our senior year.
How irrelevant events like high school, pasta parties and superlatives become when we move on to college. It becomes about sororities, college athletics, job hunting, late nights and additional heartbreak. I just cried holding the blanket, never really giving much thought recently to who had actually hand stitched it.
I have this weird idea that most people on earth are unaware of the affect they have on others. As Rachel fights for her life, and endures more surgeries, I want her to know that her act of kindness, her blanket was my source of comfort for four years. I think I have mentioned before the significant simplicity of small acts of kindness. I bet when Rachel was stitching it, she probably did not think it was my Grey’s Anatomy buddy when McDreamy died, or midterm elections stress tug.
[But then again, neither did I.]
After attending an alumni tailgate on the day I returned home from graduating, and postponing-the-real-world-week, I stepped onto the field, and I could not help but smile. Although it was better groomed, with less holes and rocks, I instantly returned to 2011, those glory-ish days. Being back there still feels so real; the endless laughs, chest bumps and games of Buck Buck. I looked ahead at the caged fence, that had green and yellow solo cups with Rachel’s initials; there was a heart shape next to it. Tents were put up, as parents cooked food, and raised money for her family.
Rally for Rachel, they cheered.
A tragedy to unite our extended-multiple-generational lacrosse family. When you talk about not knowing the people you affect, you could see it in the show of Alum, parents and players, even those who had never met her. We all know the legacy she left. Watching my younger sister, now a member of the big family, brings me such joy. I can tell all the stories in the world, but she will never know how amazing it is going to be during her time there. I will wait in anticipation as she experiences the magic herself.
As I walked down the rocky path, waving and hugging old friends, I kept thinking about my own graduation, as close as it just was. I just couldn’t even fathom. While the rest of us pondered a quote to decorate on the top of our fabric lined caps, and choosing the proper poses to dance across the stage with, Rachel was playing her most intense lacrosse career of defense, blocking the bad, and making a save all on her own. My cap read biblically, fearfully and wonderfully made. Rachel you are fearfully and wonderfully created, and your obstacles ahead should be scared of the strength you will use to defeat them.
In times of tragedy, words are often hard to find. I try to convince myself that faith offers better words then myself, when what lies before us seems inconceivable. How can we [humanly] put into words the anger we feel, the despair that takes over, the grief that surrounds the community?
[Yet a seemingly unattainable hope lingers in the midst of it all.]
Pray? I remember when I thought praying only happened late at night, before bed.
Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep, if I should die before I wake, I pray my lord, they soul to take.
Through repetitive words before bed, and nights where sleep overtook me before I could finish the long list of things [I felt God needed to hear from me], I struggled to hear back from God. It wasn’t until a wise person told me to pray everyday, everywhere; pray throughout the day; pray in the grocery store; think about it in the car on your drive to work; talk to God throughout the day. He knows the depths of our hearts. You will hear his voice.
JOB declared, “Though he slay me, yet will I trust Him.” (Job 13:15). In the face of these events, it is natural to throw up our arms. It is easier to trust our faith when we are scoring our hundredth goal, or defending the game winning shot. So what about when it is not pretty? I used to love the serenity prayer, simply put in a few scriptural lines:
“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.”
But my cousin once told me, the second half of the serenity prayer is often overlooked, but [so powerful] in the face of confusing moments. It reads:
“Living one day at a time; enjoying one moment at a time; accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; trusting that he will make all things right if I surrender to His Will; that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him forever in the next.”
[Ugh. The serious feels here.]
As Rachel has overcome multiple surgeries, she is taking this one minute, one day, one hour, procedure and hope at a time. This inexplainable hardship, can be overcome with overwhelming peace and love, 5k fundraisers and dedicated games and signs. We will pray and continue to have faith, not just when it is convenient and popular, but when one of our own needs it most. She will get there.
[I believe that we will win, sound familiar girls?], I believe that Rachel will win.
I find this comforting, because during solemn moments, it is difficult to voice to our God our sadness. If there is one message I want to portray to Rachel’s family and friends, continue to show the love in your hearts. It is not going unnoticed, or unheard. God knows in your hearts the desire for our girl to pull through. Now all we can do is trust, during a time where trust is hardest to locate.
In true fashion, I wanted to honor Rachel with a few words by a famous athlete.
Babe Ruth said, “It is hard to beat a person who NEVER GIVES UP.” Conk always said it is hard to beat a good team twice; even harder three times. Aside from the fact that in order to be a goalie you cannot give up, all those who know Rachel, know she never gives up. To all the surgeries and endless obstacles that she may face, they should know its hard to beat Rachel, who never gives up.
Its hard to beat her twice.
Don’t believe me? Need evidence. Here is her heart..
I searched my room for my box that had neatly (OCD-ly) been organized with all of my lacrosse memories. I found a stack of index cards and instantly my eyes welled up with tears. Our coach had us write each senior a short letter (as short as I could possibly get) of encouragement, trust, love and appreciation. I still remember sitting in the circle outside the wrestling room [clenching] my letters, as we were then required to read them out loud. At the time, this served as a make shift homework assignment. Yes, Lacrosse homework.
Now, after four years of college and a brief look at the harsh reality of the real world, I think there is beauty in this homework assignment. We often forget to tell people how amazingly, wonderfully, important they are to us. So homework assignment, maybe. Personal growth, definitely. Conk taught us to show love, to love all. To look past the sticks, goggles and war paint. There is love inherently born within each of us. Recognize it. Ignite it.
I scrummaged through my things to find Rachel’s letter to me. A little smudged and worn after years of sitting in my box, I read it slowly and privately in the company of my purple and gold blanket.
“Tori, defense would not be the same without you. You always have the best attitude on the team and you have started to take a real leadership role on defense. What I love about you is you always want to improve and try to learn as much as you can during our time here. Also I love that you listen to me and you truly take the advice that I give to you that I need. I know you are having trouble with your knee and if you ever want to talk about it or anything I am here for you. You’re always in the best mood and never to bring anyone down, everyday you always put me in a better mood. I can’t wait to play with you soon and have a great time on the field. I can’t wait to see us play every game together have a great time on defense.” – Rachel Hall
I remember crying four years ago as each girl spoke out loud with confidence and grace about how much we cared about one another. This past year, if anything, I have learned how stunning it is when others witness things inside of you, that you hope to portray to the world, or even attributes you are unaware of yourself…that is a rarity. To put it in writing? Even more rare. Maybe that is what Conk was trying to show us. Rachel and I were both recovering from knee injuries; both spunky and happy kids. We often joked about our pale legs, and silly tan lines we got from our knee braces and her goalie pads. But she assured me we would get through it. She would be attending Temple in the fall to play goalie. I would be retiring my lacrosse career to attend JMU.
When you lose your way, dig up your OCD organized boxes of notes, letters and trinkets that held value to you, during your most pure form of yourself. The times you felt most you. Sometimes it helps you to remember who you are, or who you were trying to be. Four years later, I forgot the beauty in a good attitude, kind leadership and encouraging others. Thank you Rachel for reminding me of the good things in myself. Thank you for reminding me, as I search for a path to take, the type of person I wanted to be in this world, the type of person I already was.
During the season, we each got a random person on the team to write notes, buy food and do “pump ups,” for throughout the season. When I found out she was my secret sister at the end of the Senior Year party, I was excited and apprehensive of my own future. I watched multiple girls sign their letters of intent that year; some for UVA, SJU and Temple. I felt so honored and privileged to grow up, and play alongside these girls. However, unlike my alleged teammates, I was not attending a university on an athletic scholarship, something I regretted for awhile. I was proud of my JMU college acceptance and choice to go far away, but felt less significant next to my D1 sisters. When Rachel handed me the blanket of my school colors, acknowledged my accomplishments and gave me a hug, I knew she appreciated me and wanted the best for me. I felt humbled, important and significant in that moment. She, a goalie leaving a legacy, noticed me.
It is hard to make sense of all of this mess.
Every game in the huddle, Conk would jazz us up and encourage us to be the spark. It became this internal competition. I mean who doesn’t want to be the lightening bolt on the field? Who doesn’t want to be the game changer, the shake up? But the more I thought about it, being the spark meant more then just scoring the most goals and cheering the loudest, or having that behind-the-back-shot. It meant you were the strength for the team that day. You lit the fire for the game that day, you made us try harder, strive for greatness.
[You, the spark, lead the way.]
Maybe today, let’s be the spark for Rachel. Not the top scorers, or fastest speed shots.
[The strength.]
Friendship is not marked by perfection, a relationship never encountering pain and challenge. Perfect marriages aren’t characterized without conflict and disarray. Relationships, and this lacrosse sisterhood, is a license to be broken; broken by one’s self, or the ugly things of this world. It is a license to be harmed, with the guarantee that we, as a family and sisterhood will get through it together; together with strength, fond memories, a couple tears, encouraging words and a game of Red Rover. We are a family raised by Megan Conklin, nurtured by Marjorie Daniels, encouraged by Kevin Pedrick, loved by Meryl Settar and more recently energized by Teesedale . In true View fashion…
We will live it,
We will Love it.
Be the Spark for Rach, Be her Strength, Be her defense, cut hard, yell to her so she knows you are there, get the ball, transition the field, score, survive, HEAL.
View lax, forever. We got your back.
PLUS, this will have to get through all of us, before it gets to you Rach ❤
|torileigh
PS: If you are interested in donating to #rallyforrachel, please feel free to email me at bakeyvl@dukes.jmu.edu ! xoxo
Unnecessarily, Necessary 