“Active shooter!” a sales associate yelled when I was on my way to the register to purchase a shirt.

I bent low and ran with the other customers to the back door. I emerged into blinding sunlight on the outside of the mall.

“You’re safe,” said the employee holding the door.

“My daughter is in the mall,” I said.

“Oh shit!”

***

Mecca, my 16-year-old daughter, and I had planned this excursion to Tysons Corner Center in Virginia the day before. We were vacationing in Washington, D.C. and wanted to do some bargain hunting in a nice, cool, indoor mall. My husband Thomas wasn’t interested in spending his afternoon watching us bopping in and out of stores, so we gathered up our backpacks and headed out for a girls day of shopping mania. It was an hour bus and Metro train ride to get to one of the largest malls in the United States. Tysons Corner has 286 stores and restaurants, a movie theater, three levels, and several parking garages and terraces. It was a busy Sunday afternoon with thousands of shoppers. 

1:20 p.m.:

Luckily for us, the Metro train stopped next to the Center. We followed the long concrete walkway out of the station, past an ‘everything from scratch’ restaurant, and a newly redesigned Marriot hotel. We hopped under trees for shade as we crossed the expansive plaza plotted with patches of bright green artificial grass to mimic a small park. My daughter and I entered the massive mall on the upper level by Shake Shack, a gourmet burger restaurant, with a cozy outdoor patio and an empty playground fashioned after a pirate ship. I got side-tracked by a cart selling frozen fruit bars dipped in chocolate a few yards into the entry way and made a mental note to return if I didn’t find something yummier as a treat. We strolled the second level of the complex together admiring the cool stores and the vastness and chicness of the space. It was over two and a half times larger than our local mall in Florida and much, much hipper. The Barnes & Noble Bookstore was going to be my chill spot if Mecca wanted to shop longer than me.

2:00 p.m.

We went into one of my favorite stores, she milled around, I scoured the clearance racks. “I’m going over to Loft,” I said as we exited the boutique.

She leaned over the railing scanning the mall and said, “I’m going…somewhere.”

“Okay, just make sure you have your ringer on.”

“Okay.” She took off to explore.

I strolled around on the second level for a half hour or so before wandering into Talbots women’s clothing store, determined to find something unique to mark our summer vacation. I was thrilled to find a lightweight linen hoodie on clearance that I could wear with two of my casual jackets. The shirt was a bit snug so I asked a sales clerk to check her tablet for a bigger size. None were available. I contemplated the fit in the back dressing room mirror before finally deciding that I really liked it. I changed back into my clothes, stepped out of the fitting room and looked for a register.

“Get down, active shooter!” a sales associate blocked my way. She was calm and commanding at the same time. I didn’t question her authority. Clearly this was not a drill. 

“Move to the back,” she pointed with one hand and motioned with the other.

I heard a loud pop in the mall—it sounded like a gunshot. I crouched low, my heart racing. I threw the shirt on the floor and hurried to the back. I didn’t know where I was going but other customers followed. Another employee held a door open ushering us out. I was blinded and startled by the hot, bright sunlight. I grabbed my phone out of my backpack side pocket while getting my bearings.

“You’re safe,” the clerk said trying to console me. They were well-trained and had efficiently and effectively shepherded their customers safely out of the store.

I looked at her with teary eyes. “My daughter is in the mall.” It wasn’t enough that I was safe with my only child in danger.

“Oh shit!” She blurted her response so quickly even she looked surprised. She promptly regained her composure to direct the other patrons out of the door.

2:47 p.m.:

I stepped to the side as I called Mecca. Shoppers rushed out behind me. I was dazed, but very clear about finding my daughter. Her phone rang—she didn’t answer. My throat tightened. My knees wobbled. The phone trembled in my hand.

I am not going out like this! Mecca is not going out like this! I shouted internally to the Universe. Fuck that. This was my declaration of survival.

I did what I always do in times of fear or distress, I called on my guides for help. Guides are multidimensional benevolent beings that love, guide and protect us. Everyone has them, even if they’re not aware of them. As a Spiritual Energy Healer, I communicate with mine daily, and in times of anguish, lean on them for comfort, hope and surety. I felt their loving presence as I stood there.

I closed my eyes and asked my guides, “Is Mecca okay?” 

“Yes, she is fine,” a reassuring voice spoke in my mind and a warm peaceful feeling spread throughout my body, like I was being swaddled in a fluffy blanket after coming inside from a chilly day. I gulped air, I didn’t realize I had stopped breathing.

2:48 p.m.:

I called her again. I felt encouraged by the reassurance from my guides, but still edgy since I hadn’t talked to my daughter directly.

“Hello,” Mecca answered in a hushed tone. Relieved to hear her voice, I took another breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I have to get off the phone.” Click. I could tell she was hiding by her tone and demeanor, but didn’t know where. We had been apart for a while so she could be anywhere in the enormous building.

BANG—Sandy Hook: flowers and candles in front of the school honoring the dead. Those kids hid too.

BANG—Marjory Stoneman Douglas: teens huddled, crying, terrified, comforting each other. So many bullets.

BANG—Robb Elementary: parents crying and screaming waiting for news about their babies. They were supposed to be safe at school.

Too. Many. Dead. Children. My throat dried and lungs compressed with each horrifying image that flashed by. What if she’s found? What if I can’t get to her? What if?… STOP!

Breathe. Breathe. Knock it off! Breathe. Guides, help me.

I knew I had to regulate my thinking and calm my mind because asking ‘what ifs’ was going to drive me crazy and render me ineffective. Also, my energy and state of mind greatly impacted my daughter, so it was critical that I get grounded as fast as possible—it’s difficult to have a balanced child with an out-of-control mother. I chanted my ‘go to’ ancient Hawaiian forgiveness mantra called ho’oponopono to stabilize myself and release my dread and terror: “I’m Sorry”, “Please Forgive Me”, “I Love You”, “Thank You”. As I silently recited these four phrases, my lungs unlocked and my thinking cleared. I’ve used this powerful technique, practiced by Dr. Hew Len, for almost two decades and trust that it will always support me.

“Guides, love and protect Mecca,” I instructed. I mentally sent a pink bubble of love and light energy to surround her and her hiding place.

Mecca had hung up before I could ask where she was, but I was thankful she was being cautious—the shooter could overhear after all. Good for her! I thought. I texted her. My messages are in green:

Grateful my daughter was safe, I walked across the narrow road to the parking structure to stand in the shade. Two guys were talking. I eavesdropped on their conversation attempting to get more information. One was talking about a shooting at the mall between gang members a couple of months before.

“Excuse me,” I didn’t care about interrupting. My momma bear instincts had kicked in and my cub was in danger—I felt strong, determined, and deadly. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“They said there was a shooting in Bloomingdales,” one of the guys replied.

“Where’s Bloomingdales?” I asked.

“Over there,” he pointed to my right and I could see it clearly now.

“My daughter is in Squishables. Do you know where that is?”

“That’s way on the other side of the mall on the lower level.”

“How do I get there?”

“You have to walk around the mall that way.” He pointed to the left. “It’s a long walk.”

“Thanks.”

Okay, breathe. Thank goodness, Mecca is nowhere near the shooter, I texted her again:

I mapped Squishables on my phone. It was difficult to figure out the best route because the shortest path was through the mall. Fuck!

“Why the hell are we even here?” I asked my guides in frustration. “We’re never in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I’ve been a Spiritual Energy Healer for almost 30 years, connecting with guides, the cosmos and my intuition to assist people in releasing energy blocks and blind spots that have kept them paralyzed, fearful and unhappy; therefore, I have a very high expectation of being taken care of by the Universe. I hadn’t received any hints of intuition that we shouldn’t be here, nor did Mecca as far as I knew. I’ve reiterated to my teen over the years to listen to her intuition, to trust that if a situation doesn’t feel right, get out. Now, I was pissed that I was a thousand miles from home, in a mall I’d never been to, running from an active shooter. What the hell!

“Stay focused. You’re okay, Mecca’s okay,” was the answer from my guides.

Hmph! “I’m Sorry”, “Please Forgive Me”, “I Love You”, “Thank You”. Breathe, I reminded myself.

Hundreds of cars poured out of the crowded parking lot like ants fleeing water. Hastily abandoned police cars with flashing blue lights obstructed egress. People were lost and disoriented as they flooded out the doors. Frantic mothers called their kids.

“Get out! Get out of there!” a woman in front of me steadying bulging shopping bags screamed into her phone.

Under any other circumstances, I probably would have tried to help her. I sent her a quick blessing and returned to my mission.

I put on my hat to block the burning sun and headed in the direction of Squishables. I tracked my steps on Google maps; at first it seemed like I wasn’t getting any closer. The arrow kept pointing into the complex and I was on the outside sidewalk. Fleeing shoppers hurried by me in every direction rushing to their cars, their loved ones, and away from the peril—I concentrated on rescuing my daughter from her hiding place inside a bathroom at a stuffed animal store. I was as resolute as the mom in the 1982 film Poltergeist who dove into the bowels of hell to save her kid.

3:01 p.m.:

I was surprised when Mecca called me. “I’m in the mall, where are you?” she asked.

“What are you doing in the mall? I told you to stay in the store.”

“They told us to leave. They said it was all clear,” she said.

“Who told you it was safe?” I was alarmed that she was out in the open, by herself, in the mall with person wielding a gun.

“One of the employees who was at lunch called and said it was okay.”

“Where are you? I’m headed toward Squishables,” I said.

“I’m in the middle of the mall.” I cringed thinking about how vulnerable her position could be.

“What’s around you?”

“I see Macy’s.”

I looked up and saw the big Macy’s sign in front of me. “Walk toward the store. I’m outside of Macy’s.”

“Okay,” she said.

A woman smoking outside, had propped open an employee access door to the mall. I hustled to sneak through the door before she closed it or tried to stop me. I stepped into a long, dimly lit hallway with uneven boxes stacked along the walls and open doors exposing untidy storage rooms. I walked briskly and surfaced inside Macy’s department store. I headed toward what I thought was the entrance to the mall interior, where Mecca should be waiting. Armed police officers donning bulky jet-black bullet-proof vests safeguarded the center, directing customers out.

“You have to leave the store,” a female officer said pointing to the nearest exit which led outside.

“I’m trying to get to my daughter. She said she’s in front of Macy’s,” I said as I kept walking, disregarding her instructions.

“You can’t go that way. You have to leave the store now,” the officer was more forceful this time.

“But my daughter is that way,” I pointed toward the mall. Surely, she must understand…

“They’re evacuating everyone. She’ll be sent out.” The officer faced me and stood upright, making her appear taller and more menacing, reminding me of a cat hissing and arching its back when threatened. She was not going to negotiate. I begrudgingly followed her directive and left the store.

I called Mecca. “Where are you? I can’t get through Macy’s. They’re kicking everyone out.”

“They’re making us leave the mall. I’m walking out the door now by Macy’s.”

We were still on the phone when Mecca appeared from the door I was standing in front of. I ran and squeezed her with relief and gratitude.  

“Are you okay?” I asked, studying her.

“Yeah.” Her eyes were wide and her expression was flat, but she looked good although shaken.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said. We hastily took off in the direction I had come from before stopping to enter our destination in Google maps. We spun my phone to find our location in relationship to the Metro station. The arrow pointed through the mall—once again that was the quickest, most direct route, and definitely not the path we would trek.

“I guess let’s go this way,” I said, staying on our original course. Since this was our first time at Tyson’s Corner, I had no idea which direction was best, and really, really hated feeling lost. I’m usually pretty good with directions, but found that Google maps wasn’t navigating well around this huge complex.

We walked on the sidewalk around the mall dodging harried shoppers. “Do you think we should call Daddy?” I asked as we rushed to find our train.

She thought for a moment, shook her head and said, “No.”

“Yeah, I agree. I’ll call him when we get out of here. There’s nothing he can do but worry.”

Of course, minutes later Thomas called.

“What’s going on over there?” he asked.

“What do you think is happening?” I wasn’t sure if he was calling to say hello or because he had heard about the shooting.

“I was calling to see how the shopping is going.”

My brief explanation spilled out. “Oh. Well, we had to leave. There was a shooter in the mall. I’m okay, Mecca is fine and she’s here with me and we’re trying to find the Metro station.” The facts, just the facts. I was busy.

“What! What happened?”

“We’re okay. I’m trying to get us out of here and we can’t find the train station. I can’t talk right now. I’ve got to ask someone.” I hung up. Now that my baby was with me, I had shifted from deadly momma bear into my single-focused divine masculine energy, like I do when working on a project or nearing the end of writing a book. I had one goal, and one goal only. And anything that didn’t help me accomplish that goal would have to wait—my husband’s questions would have to wait since they weren’t going to help us get to the train. He sent me a text saying call when I had a chance. I didn’t reply.

Apparently, most people drove or walked to the mall, because several people that we asked didn’t know where the train station was. Finally, a man was helpful and pointed us in the right direction. Mecca and I arrived on the platform of the Metro approximately one hour after I threw a shirt on the floor and ran out the back door of Talbots. Whew! Finally.

We found a bench in the shade and I called Thomas to fill him in while we waited for our train back to D.C. “I looked on YouTube for any news and a bunch of stories came up about other shootings at that mall. I didn’t think to look before you guys went,” he said. We didn’t have regular TV news channels at our Airbnb apartment so he had searched YouTube looking for updates.

“Well neither did I. But I’m not going to do that. What if you had known about other incidents? Then what? You’d be scared, and I’d be scared walking around anticipating something bad happening. I’m not going to live in fear,” I said.

“I guess you’re right,” he reluctantly agreed.

Mecca checked her phone for any news. “Nothing has been reported yet,” she said.

We met up with Thomas in Dupont Circle, an eclectic, historic neighborhood in northwest D.C. full of bookstores, restaurants and shops. Our shopping excursion had been ruined so we tried to salvage the day by visiting one of the places on our ‘must do list’. Mecca browsed through Fantom Comics, an independent comic-book shop with lots of graphic novels, and a rare and used bookstore close by. I really just wanted to walk around and unwind. When I saw the neon red “Hot Now” sign illuminated in Krispy Kreme Doughnuts’ window, I beelined to the store. I devoured two freshly made, lightly crispy, Classic Originals, my favorite. That sugar was the best tonic ever. It lifted my mood and I momentarily forgot about the mall—I was in tasty bliss. I would have eaten more, but I knew from past over-consumption, two donuts were my sweet spot. Mecca had one with chocolate on it and Thomas didn’t have anything. His loss.

After we returned to our Airbnb hours later, Mecca looked for news again. “They’re saying it was a fallen light fixture, not a shooter,” she said.

“You’re kidding!” I said in disbelief. “It sounded like a gunshot to me”. WTF! All that panic and chaos over a light fixture, I thought.

***

I believe that everything happens for a reason, so I’ve been questioning why I was at that mall, in the middle of that mayhem, on that hot, Sunday afternoon. I’m sure more will be revealed with time, but what I’m noticing since this event is that I am more compassionate toward people who have experienced trauma or are living with anxiety; and I recognize it’s easier to say ‘I refuse to live in fear’ than actually not living in fear. Sometimes I feel vulnerable in public places like never before, or I mentally devise exit strategies ‘just in case something goes down’—both of which are upsetting to me. When this happens, I use ho’oponopono to calm my mind and ground myself, and ask my guides for assistance, just like I did at Tysons Corner Center. I reset, then I have to actively choose peace and joy—they’re not something that happen automatically. Ultimately though, this incident showed me how courageous I really am. I feel like I acted in an effective way to support my daughter and myself in the midst of one of the scariest events of my life. If I can do that, I can do anything!

I hope that someday I can go back to the shopping complex and enjoy the beautiful mall and surroundings without a disturbance. Until then, I’ll send light and love wherever I visit and know that this energy helps heal the world and reduces the fear, anger and anxiety on this planet.