Echoes of Newtown. Blake Fite
are reading this, you can help those who have lost a parent by simply gifting this book to them and inviting them on the journey of healing and restoration.
We can help—one at a time!
Blake Fite
Acknowledgements
Echoes of Newtown would not be a reality today if it were not for these:
To my wife of 19 years, Laura—thank you for being supportive when I would hole myself up in the office writing instead of helping the kids with homework and dinner. Also, thank you for your faithfulness in your counseling practice over our entire marriage. The families you serve are blessed to have you. I love you.
To the writer’s group—Samuel, Rachel, Emma, Ross, Amelia, Olive and the Phantom Orphan used to represent orphans across the world—thank you for your faithfulness. The plight of the fatherless wanderers of the world inspires us to do this work.
Especially to my daughter, Rachel, and my son, Samuel—you two are such great humans. Thank you for being you and nothing more. Do not ever let anyone paint your canvas for you. And if anyone ever belittles your calling to just a hobby (even if it’s me), then don’t listen to them. Consider it white noise. Disclaimer: Do tell your Mother your plans first.
To my editor, Kate Fehlauer, who put up with my sporadic ideas—thanks for taking this book way past my own abilities and for sharing your daughter in the writer’s group. She is amazing! Your insight, ability to keep up with my new ideas and your deep understanding of the plight of the orphan truly made this book what it is. Josiah, you are truly a good man for agreeing to support Kate while she literally spent hundreds of hours working on this project. Thank you both!
To our illustrator, Audrey Dorman—you are truly family and I am so proud of you for graduating from college with your degree in Art Education. Your artwork will make a way for you, but your art instruction to the next generation will change the world!
To David Stephens—I appreciate you and Tina introducing Laura and me to the “Abiding in Christ” teachings. I wove these teachings into the book and it came at such a pivotal time for me and for us as a couple.
To my publishing colleagues at Morgan James—thank you for educating me and inspiring me. A special thanks to Lara Helmling, my fiction novel coach, for giving me the blueprint for finishing this book. Your spirited virtual meetings encouraged me to move forward.
To my photographer, Trenton Sullivent—you truly are a bright young man; and your eye for the right angle, scene and pictures are inspirational. Not sure what you are going to be when you jump the nest, but the sky is the limit. Count me in!
To my podcast partner, Tim Turner—your communication skills truly impact the world. Since you’ve exceeded my academics, I guess that makes me your, “young chicken hawk.”
To Ben Beresh at Valley Way Media—your ability to place the vision for the book in video form was so critical to launching this first book in the series. I look forward to doing more projects in the future.
To the parents of the kids in the writers group (especially the moms)—thank you very much. Your support of this book testifies to what moms sacrifice for the sake of the next generation.
To Don and Melinda Wooden—thank you for mentoring me for seven years as your Director of Partnerships at www.changealife.org. Working with you truly changed my perspective on the world. Don, thanks for going with me to Africa and for modeling how to change the world one child at a time.
And last but not least, to John and Libby Moritz at www.heartsofthefather.org—thank you for your friendship, financial support of this book and constant encouragement. Your triumph over the tragic passing of your children is a constant reminder that this life on earth is finite and people need to be treated with gentleness and respect.
Jesus in Me,
Blake
Prologue
A Letter from Sage to a Sojourner
Victory has a thousand fathers, but defeat is an orphan.
—John F. Kennedy
Hello, young Sojourners.
My name is Billy Washita. A few years ago, my wife of many years passed away, which got me to thinking. Pretty soon, I’ll pass away, too. And, I know that, because before my wife died, I said, “My darling girl, when you leave I’m not going to hang around here more than seven years.” Yeah, when she took off to be with her Creator, I knew the clock was ticking for me. So, it’s about time I get this story off my chest.
Now, I do happen to believe in all that Creator stuff (and reading this, you’ll see why), but maybe you don’t. Wye, that’s just fine. After all, no one’s story is yours but your own. And you, young grasshopper, will have to decide for yourself.
I was like you, once. When I was just about nine years old, I lost both of my parents. Perhaps, that’s how I had so much love to give my precious wife. But, hard as I held her, she too departed from me. So, here I am—down here on this side of Heaven—moving forward.
I grafted her wedding ring onto mine as a sort of sign to symbolize that I’m on a trail of tears without my darling girl, but I’m holding her close to my heart.
You see, I didn’t have any sisters growing up. Nope, it was just Dad and me up in the beginning—before everything changed.
My dad used to tell the kind of stories that painted pictures in your head—stories about Mom and Aunt Sunny taking care of people who’d been all bloodied by the Civil War. The women had a hard road back in that day, (and if you’re a young woman reading this, you can think about what that would have felt like for you.) But this is a different kind of war story—one about orphan life and the gang of friends who helped me survive it.
Maybe you think you know what a superhero looks like, since they’ve filled comic books since the 1930s. But, young sojourners, my gang was the first group of superheroes. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Their powers transcended human ability.
As for me, I’m no hero. I was a young boy with weaknesses, and now I’m an old man with even more of them, and I don’t much care about what others think of me. (I guess you could call that a strength.) If I could go back and speak to that foolhardy young version of myself, I might steer him away from a few of his mistakes. But, you know what? They weren’t all for nothing. The Creator gives us free will to choose our own path, and somehow, by His grace, that young man found his future when he found the secret to his past.
So, grasshopper. Here it is—my gift to you: every one of the private journal entries I wrote to my deceased parents. These writings will launch an adventure you’ll never forget. I just ask one thing. You see, for much of my journey I was arrogant, flooded with pride and no shred of humility. So, please, read it with grace.
You know, the Creator chose the time and place for me, and here you’ll learn a little about it, but there’s just not enough paper here to tell you about my time in Europe and Africa. I can’t recount