BLOOD, SWEAT & TEARS: A Prominent Fort Worth Pastor Reflects on the Tragedy in Uvalde.
BLOOD, SWEAT & TEARS: A Prominent Fort Worth Pastor Reflects on the Tragedy in Uvalde. CBS: https://www.cbsnews.com/texas/news/fort-worth-pastor-returns-from-uvalde/
By Black Texans Staff | National Feature
FORT WORTH, Texas — Four years later, the memories remain vivid.
The images.
The tears.
The prayers.
The unbearable grief.
For Rev. Kyev P. Tatum, Sr., senior pastor of New Mount Rose Missionary Baptist Church in Fort Worth, the tragedy in Uvalde is not merely a news story from the past. It remains a deeply personal reminder of the pain that can unite a nation and the compassion that can help communities begin to heal.
Less than twenty-four hours after the massacre at Robb Elementary School that claimed the lives of 19 children and two teachers, Tatum made the five-hour journey from Fort Worth to Uvalde as part of Operation Compassion, a coordinated effort by faith leaders to provide spiritual care, emotional support, and a ministry of presence to a devastated community.
Before leaving Fort Worth, Tatum received two phone calls that would shape his mission.
One came from Houston civil rights leader Dr. Candice Matthews.
The other came from Chicago from civil rights icon Rev. Jesse L. Jackson, Sr.
As Tatum prepared for the difficult journey ahead, Jackson offered words that would remain with him long after he returned home.
“Be spiritual, not political.”
Those words became both a guide and a challenge.
At a moment when the nation was debating policies, politics, and responsibility, Tatum believed his assignment was different.
His assignment was people.
His assignment was compassion.
His assignment was presence.
“We felt it was our duty to come together and do what we could to make this a moral outcry rather than a political outcry,” Tatum recalled. “When it becomes a moral outcry, the focus remains on the people who are hurting. When it becomes political, the focus often shifts away from those who need compassion the most.”
Partnering with local congregations, including Faith Baptist Church in Uvalde, Tatum joined fellow clergy in providing prayer, encouragement, crisis support, and comfort to families facing unimaginable loss (https://www.audacy.com/krld/news/local/prominent-fort-worth-pastor-spreading-love-in-uvalde).
Looking back, Tatum says the experience can be summarized in three simple words:
Blood. Sweat. Tears.
Before attending meetings.
Before standing at memorials.
Before speaking with families.
Before offering public remarks.
His first stop was a mobile blood donation center.
He rolled up his sleeve and donated blood.
He gave his blood.
Over the following days, he listened to grieving parents, prayed with residents, stood beside fellow clergy, and comforted strangers whose lives had been forever changed.
He cried with them.
He gave his tears.
And under the relentless South Texas sun, he spent long hours at churches, memorials, prayer gatherings, and community support sites, serving wherever he was needed.
He gave his sweat.
Not as a symbolic gesture.
Not as a public relations effort.
But as an act of ministry.
As flowers, balloons, crosses, teddy bears, and handwritten messages filled the memorial outside Robb Elementary School, Tatum joined countless others who knelt in prayer and searched for words capable of bringing comfort to a broken city.
There, amid overwhelming grief, he found himself returning to a message that still guides him today:
Forgiveness.
Not because forgiveness is easy.
Not because accountability does not matter.
But because healing cannot begin if hatred is allowed to have the final word.
“We know that the only thing capable of filling a void this deep is love,” Tatum said. “Love does not erase the pain. It does not remove the loss. But love helps carry people through it. And when we choose forgiveness, we begin taking steps toward healing together.”
Today, four years later, the wounds of Uvalde have not disappeared.
The loss remains.
The memories remain.
The questions remain.
But so does the memory of people who showed up.
People who prayed.
People who listened.
People who cried.
People who stayed.
For Pastor Tatum, the tragedy in Uvalde is not merely an event to be recalled on an anniversary.
It is a call to reflect, remember, and respect.
To reflect on the fragility of life and the responsibility we share to care for one another.
To remember the nineteen children and two teachers whose lives were taken far too soon, along with the families and community forever changed by that day.
To respect the grief that still remains, the courage of those who responded, and the dignity of every family whose journey toward healing continues.
Four years later, Tatum still remembers the flowers.
He still remembers the prayers.
He still remembers the tears.
He still remembers the silence that settled over a community searching for answers.
And he still believes that compassion remains one of the most powerful responses to tragedy.
When he reflects on those difficult days in Uvalde, he does not remember politics.
He remembers people.
He remembers pain.
He remembers prayer.
He remembers love.
Reflect. Remember. Respect.
For Tatum, those three words continue to define the lesson of Uvalde.
And among those who showed up was a pastor from Fort Worth carrying four words from Rev. Jesse Jackson that continue to echo in his heart:
“Be spiritual, not political.”
When he thinks about what he offered during those difficult days, he remembers giving what he could.
His blood.
His sweat.
His tears.
And above all, his love.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18
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