The news was awful. Then, I heard those three life-saving words that sounded strangely familiar.

A guns-blazing attack on a San Bernardino, California "holiday party." Fourteen dead, 21 wounded.

One of the wounded was Denise Peraza. But for the heroism of coworker Shannon Johnson, she would probably have been one of the fatalities.

"Active shooter in Colorado Springs." When I got the news alert, I turned to a news channel right away. I have friends in that city.

After a violent five-hour siege, the gunman surrendered. And the tragic count of dead and wounded began to become clear. But so did the heroism in the middle of the fear and the violence.

If I was back in elementary school, and they asked me to write a composition on "My Summer," I'd have one word on the paper. Amazing.

Because I spent it on Indian reservations with a team of 60 Native American young people. Who stood on rez basketball courts, pouring out their Hope Story of how Jesus has rescued them. I had a front row seat on God's awesomeness.

"There are five Gospels - Matthew, Mark, Luke, John - and the Christian. Most people never read the first four."

That observation, made long ago, couldn't be more true today.

If our world's getting darker, then something must be wrong with what folks are "reading." In the Christians - the messengers - they know (that was last time). And with their Message. Actually, with the way they represent it.

Boom. Suddenly all the lights went out in the conference center where we were staying. Just as we were all making our way out of our rooms and down the long hallway to breakfast.

The hallway was longer than usual that morning. Totally dark. Turns out the entire region had experienced a power failure. Because a squirrel got into a relay station and gnawed through a cable. Fried squirrel. Lights out.

Memorial Day's different when you're a veteran or a loved one of someone who died for America's freedom.

Every day is Memorial Day. Because freedom's price has a name, a face, an empty chair at the table.

This Memorial Day I've heard some veterans, some families asking a haunting question. It's embodied in a recent statement from one combat veteran, former Navy Seal, and current TV commentator. He said:

It caught me off guard.

I was watching an interview with a teenager who was an eyewitness in last week's school stabbing rampage. Actually, she was more than an eyewitness. She was almost a victim.

Almost.

The big boat's making big waves again.

Noah's Ark rides again. And this time Hollywood's hoping it will bring in a flood. Of money. As a blockbuster movie.

Word is that this telling of the iconic story starts with the Bible account. And adds a heavy dose of Hollywood imagination. With great special effects. Probably no match, though, for the original.

With Noah showing up in ads on TV all the time, it's made me go back to the non-fiction, original narrative. Bible-style.

I've got a lot of friends in law enforcement. They don't usually show a lot of emotion. But the Cleveland police chief said today: "Yes, law enforcement people do cry."

I think some of them did. When three women, missing for a decade, were suddenly found alive. They'd been imprisoned in a nondescript house by a man who kidnapped them years ago. And living horrors we may never fully know.