10 years ago

I sat and watched the television in terror at what was unfolding on the news.  I was only 11 years old, and didn’t know the extent of what this would mean.  But I honestly don’t know that anyone else did either.  What I knew was that thousands of people were being killed.  I watched the news over and over, wishing it would go away, wishing it was only a movie, wishing those people could be saved somehow.  It was like some sort of horrible nightmare that just kept replaying on TV and in my head.  As much as I tried, I couldn’t get the tears to stop rolling down my face, and I was in a state of absolute shock.  I don’t know what scared me more, the fact that hundreds of innocent people were being killed, the fact that our country was under attack, or the fact that I had absolutely no idea of where in the world my dad was.  I knew this meant war was imminent, and I knew that my daddy had just been deployed.  What I wasn’t sure of is quite how much danger he was really in.  My ignorance protected me from even greater inner turmoil.  You see, If I didn’t know what my dad was actually doing, I didn’t know the danger he was really in.  All I really knew was that he was in a warzone working 18hr+ days, and would be gone for long periods of time with absolutely no contact.  Even when he did have contact, it would be a 5 minute phone call here, or a short email there.  In all honesty, I was scared to death.   I would cry and cry as I watched the horror on people’s faces on television, as they fell out of the trade centers or ran down the streets where I used to spend many happy moments.  But as much as I possibly could, I bottled it all up inside. I always felt like it was a sign of weakness to show emotion.  I also knew that I needed to try my best to be strong for my family.  I really wished I could go back to New York and do something, or even just see it, so that it could become reality in my mind.  I had a hard time believing that these buildings I used to see every week were just destroyed. 

As I prepared for Sunday’s preschool lesson, I realized that none of the preschool kids had even been born yet in 2001.  And I began to remember what life was like before 9/11.  It was easier. It was more comfortable.  There wasn’t nearly as much worry about foreign conflict, economy, national security, etc. I’ll never forget what it used to be like, and I’ll never forget how it changed our country forever.  One thing that was amazing was how Americans everywhere, regardless of political views, bonded and were filled with patriotism that day and for months to come.  When remembering 9/11 we should remember the incredibly valuable lessons our country learned that day: lessons that brought people together and reminded us of the important things in life. These were lessons that taught us to be strong, to love others, to trust, and to have faith in our God, who is always there.  We should also remember to pray for those who lost loved ones that day.  I’m sure the memories are as vivid as ever…and there are still emotional scars that will always be there.