Friday, September 11, 2015


The day is here again. September 11. Each time the world whirls around the sun to this point in time, I return to that day, fourteen years ago. A rush of memories and sensations washes over me, and I'm back there again. I remember the sonic booms of the military aircraft racing in the air above me as I resolutely pushed my almost two-year-old in our backyard swing set. I was pregnant. My belly was huge; my due date was the next month. The baby jumped in my womb at the explosive sound. My heart stuttered within me.

Later, when I went back inside the house I banished the television until the children were in bed. When the house was silent, my husband and I couldn't resist. We turned it on and watched in horror, and I cried. Doomed planes, toppling towers, falling ashes dominated the television for months afterward. We realized in that time that our world would never be the same again, and our children would grow up in what remained.

The years have since slowly passed. "Normal" life has resumed. At times it's easy to forget what it was like "before." This morning when I greeted my oldest son he remarked that his very first memory was of September 11, 2001. It was his first day of 3-day preschool, and class was cut short because of the tragedy that unfolded that day. He was four years old. I compared his first memory to my own first, receiving a doll buggy on Christmas morning. I felt so excited to put my own real baby sister in it and push her around! The contrast was sobering.

Yet it is good to remember, for by remembering we honor those who sacrificed everything that day. By remembering we continue to be vigilant. By remembering we love more deeply. I pray we always remember and carry those memories with us, sacred ashes to enrich the soil of our unwavering country. I pray we never forget.
"Remember the things of old:  for I am God and there is none else; I am God, and there is none like me..." Isaiah 46:9 NKV

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