(The Freedom Tower mid-construction circa summer 2011)
(Fallen beam in the shape of a cross-since moved to the WTC museum)
But I DO remember and I will never forget.
September 11th is such an important day to me, but even more important is September 12th. It is a day I remember and cherish since 2001.
I was a senior in high school when the events of 9/11 took place. I remember the outfit that I wore that day. It was pre-planned. I was a stickler for preparation in high school. Everything: lunch, backpack, sports bag, outfit was planned and packed the night before. I had laid a black shirt with a sequenced New York skyline across the chest that held the twin towers in its midst on a wicker chair in my room. I wore a red, black and white nylon skirt with it. I did not know when I got dressed that morning what had already occurred. My parents told me. They had the news on as I was getting ready to leave for school. I remember my mom saying something like, "The pilot must have had a heart attack." Because well, at that point in time, events such as these must be accidents. We never even considered the unthinkable answers that were minutes away from unfolding.
No, no...wait. The second plane hit. This was intentional. It was deliberate. We are under attack.
I went to school still. And that day was strange. We prayed together. All of our teachers halted their lessons. We just talked. We brought in televisions and watched the news. I was numb. How was I supposed to feel? What might happen next?
My friend was a mess that day because she had received a call from her father that he would be flying to New York to help out. He was a firefighter. She was so scared. I had never seen anyone so scared.
But it stopped.
Thousands died.
T-h-o-u-s-a-n-d-s.
We, as Americans, we grieved.
But on 9/12 we got up. School was cancelled that day. We were urged to stay at home with our families. So we did. My friend came over. I remember we watched Christmas movies to help her feel comforted, and really for me to feel comforted as well.
I looked to our President for guidance and hope, and you know what, he brought it. If anyone speaks ill of George W. Bush and his presidency, I stand by the fact that no other President could have possibly led us the way he did when these attacks happened.
And soon, if not immediately, we were a nation united. We stood together. And my heart, which had never really known or understood patriotism, so suddenly did. My heart swelled with national pride and a deep and grounded belief in a sovereign God.
Today we remember these events that took place 15 years ago. As I pore through my instagram and twitter feeds I find comfort in those that lived and saw and grieved and still remember and appreciate and believe that we can be united.
When news channels are consistently covering Clinton and Trump and the great divide within our nation, it is refreshing to take pause and replay what happened 15 years ago in spite of the tragedy, utter beauty unfolded.
We stood united. We believed in who we once were and who we could be again.
This morning at church we talked about the tragedies taking place all over our world today. A simple mention of a word or phrase can evoke in our minds and hearts the sights and feelings of the horrific events taking place in our world today. ISIS, Syria, mass shootings, race, war, violence, distrust, hate...it can get pretty overwhelming. I, for one, know that I often like to run from where these stories and events pervade the most. So I turn off the t.v., I don't look at the paper, I avoid the conversations, because it is all too painful.
But something about today draws my attention back. And it isn't scary. It is sacred. It is a reminder of a sacred call on my life. You see, this morning at church we were talking about prayer that moves mountains! I look at the world, I think about 9/11 and I often wonder. God, can it get better? Will it? I sometimes don't pray because I don't hope for it. But today I am reminded that we serve a patient God. We serve a God who is merciful and just.
We serve a God that wants us to pray!
Wow. I serve and love a God who wants me to pray. He wants to interact with me. He doesn't call me to look at the world and analyze it according to my own expected outcomes. Instead, I am called to "a new life of love" this Christian life, in which I am chosen by God and called to live differently from the rest of the world that does not love and serve Him.
Sometimes I get muddled up in the world. I know I am a daughter of the King. I know He loves me and hears my prayers and sent His Son to sacrifice His life for my sin. I know I love Him. But.
But.
Sometimes I get muddled up in the world and I forget. I forget to align my heart to His. I forget to begin each day knowing I am a daughter of the King. I don't actively pray. I don't wait with the expectation that the God of the Universe is going to move and do more than I can ask, think or imagine. Instead, I wait rather impatiently and disgruntled and more often than not in confusion.
But that is not living in the new life of love.
And this is where I find myself today. 15 years since the attacks of 9/11. 15 years from a day I will never forget. I won't ever forget. I won't forget what happened on 9/12 and the days thereafter. I won't forget that God brought light out of pitch black darkness. I won't forget that when everything seemed dismal and darkness seemed without end, He pierced through with the light of His love.
So, even today, 15 years later when much still seems broken and our nation feels so very fragmented, I believe the Lord can heal and restore and unite as he did 15 years ago. His patience does not grow thin.
I pray, as I continue to press on, I will never forget, and walk the days that follow September 11, 2016 in this new life of love with a prayerful and believing heart.
