Yesterday, I learned another hard lesson. For the past few weeks, God has been telling me to be alert and on guard. I even had the nerve to ask Him, For how long? His response was clear: Until I tell you otherwise. Listen and obey.

I failed yesterday—and I felt it.

Since Jayla entered her teenage years and started wanting to step out socially, I have struggled with deciding which environments to allow her to experience. Balancing between protecting her and letting her learn from life—just as I had to—has been challenging. This year, she and some friends wanted to go to Mardi Gras in Mamou. I had never been, but I knew it was a popular spot. I let them make their plans, coordinated with my sister to join us, and we decided they could go—but we would be with them, allowing some freedoms while keeping an eye on them.

As we finalized our plans, my spirit was in turmoil. I felt uneasy, aggravated, exhausted, and unsettled. Yet, I ignored these warnings because I had already told my kids we were going. We arrived in Mamou, and the moment we stepped out, my spirit said No!—but I didn’t listen.

We joined the crowd, got some food, visited a store, and found a spot to sit and enjoy the live band. As I sat there, watching people, I heard God’s voice clearly: There is going to be a shooting. Not only did I know it was Him, but I could also see it—the environment was breeding disaster. It was only a matter of time. I stood up, scanning for my entire group, and started walking to bring the teens closer to me. Before I could even speak, the gunshots rang out. The crowd stampeded in my direction.

We ran for safety, and as I looked at the fear on my family’s faces, my heart sank.

We quickly gathered everyone, made a plan to exit safely, and then—another stampede. As we tried to steady ourselves again, my heart wrenched at the thought of walking my children past three lifeless bodies while police rushed toward us with automatic rifles.

Later, when I got on social media, my heart broke even more. The lack of moral conviction and sensitivity in people’s reactions was shocking. It made me realize how quickly life can shift from joy to tragedy in mere seconds. But even more disturbing was the realization of how desensitized we have become as a society to death. This is not normal. This should not be our normal. What are we doing?!

What a painful lesson to learn.

I share this in the hope that it reminds you: Listen when God speaks. The trauma I could have avoided yesterday taught me more than I ever wanted to learn—and more than I ever wanted my children to learn.

Not only do we need more prayer, but we also need more action. It’s not enough to acknowledge the brokenness around us—we must be willing to stand, speak, and move in obedience to God’s voice.