An event that honestly touched me
Tim GULLA LEDGER STAFF WRITER

The nice thing about being a reporter for a living is the lack of monotony.

No two days in this business are alike and you never know what's going to happen next.

It's a great feeling when you first start out in the business. But there's a downside, too. Invariably, if you do this long enough, you can become somewhat desensitized.

Reporters don't always get to cover nice things about life. A police reporter goes where the police and firefighters are doing their jobs. A court reporter goes where the judges and juries sit. And if you hang out long enough with any of the aforementioned people, you're bound to see and hear things worse than a horror movie.

At least with horror movies, no matter how gory, you know it's fake.

And like any reporter, I've seen my share of tragedy over the years, from murders and fatal accidents to things even worse.

I'm not saying you become robotic or nonchalant. Your human heart still beats and the empathy and compassion you need to do your work effectively always remains. But you can reach a point that it takes a lot to shock, surprise or truly move you.

Something moved me the other day, though, and I'm grateful for it.

There I was, sitting in Limestone Baptist Church on South Johnson Street, witnessing a celebration of Verlishia Littlejohn's life at her funeral.

Yes, all of these people came together because of tragedy. But if everything those of faith are taught is true, Littlejohn would have looked down from above and seen something glorious here on earth.

She would have heard heavenly voices and soaring music.

She would have seen how many people miss her but, at the same time, who also are willing to let go because they knew she was in a better place.

I never had the chance to meet Verlishia, but I know after meeting her friends and family members over the past few weeks she would have been an easy person to like. To borrow an old phrase, you are the company that you keep.

Generally, I start writing a story as I drive back from an assignment. My review of mental notes starts with coming up with the all-important first sentence of a story that's supposed to draw reader interest into whatever you're writing about.

There's an art to it that I haven't perfected, but I usually come up with a few ideas that are at least good in my own mind.

But as I left Limestone Baptist Church I felt worry that I wouldn't be able to craft the right words about an event that honestly touched me.

It would be difficult to capture the poetic words spoken by Rev. Michael Golden of Limestone Baptist Church, or Dr. Michael Bridges of Concord Baptist Church, without a full transcription of their comforting messages.

Snippets are usually the best I can do.

And how can I, who doesn't sing well at all, convey the power heard in the many voices that sang out loud in remembrance of Verlishia Littlejohn and faith in a higher power.

I work in a print medium, which doesn't lend itself well to live recordings.

The best I could do, I theorized, was to use my column this week to do something I never get to do in a news story.

Here, I get to offer an opinion or two, and bare a little of my own soul.

Verlishia Littlejohn's family, friends and loved ones could not have come up with a more fitting goodbye to a life cut short.

They know their parting is just temporary. You have to be moved by that.