It was September 11, 2001. I was four months pregnant, sick, and debating whether to call in to work or man up and go. My husband had lost his job three months earlier and was snoring peacefully in bed, while I stood at the bathroom sink, nauseous and jealous -- but with that undercurrent of hope and excitement known only to expectant mothers. I did not know that five minutes later, my mom would call and tell me in a trembling voice that I needed to turn on the TV -- and pray. Within half an hour, an entire nation was tuned in, collectively frozen in place as we watched human beings leaping to their deaths out of skyscraper windows. We watched the first tower crumble, and then the second, like a childs stack of building blocks or a doomed game of Jenga. Was this real? It didnt feel real – and yet, it felt all TOO real at the same time. Something unsettling happens to the collective consciousness of a nation that has watched together, in real time, the senseless sacrifice of thousands of innocent people. Newscasters abandoned their professional, measured tones and broadcasted each new development through tears of horror and disbelief. I went into work a couple hours late and spent the remainder of the workday huddled with my coworkers around a TV in a model home. No one came in to write contracts or talk about building their dream home that day, because building a home is a future-focused project, an act of faith implying hope for tomorrow -- and in a matter of hours, we had become a nation with its breath held, none of us able to count on tomorrow coming at all. Three days later, I stood at my sisters bedside in the hospital, reminding her to breathe as she labored to bring forth her third son. Photos of that day capture the precious face of a newborn in the foreground, and a TV screen in the background, airing the footage of 9/11/2001 and its aftermath. It was impossible not to wonder what kind of world little Andrew had just been welcomed into, what kind of world I would bring my own child into five months later. None of us knew what to expect of the future -- and we were shaken by the reality that we had never really known before, either. But thats what it means to live in the aftermath of tragedy. Spiritually, there was a polarization happening: Those who loved and trusted God were clinging to Him as never before, and those who were hostile -- or even unbelieving -- hated Him more than ever. No one could afford to stay on the fence anymore; those who doubted moved quickly from ambivalence to either desperate faith or hopeless despair. Today, we are still living in the aftermath, as evidenced by even a quick scroll through your newsfeed this morning. Life has gone on since 9/11, as life tends to do, but we as a people are not the same. The question to ask ourselves is HOW we are not the same. Are we facing our day through a grid of fear? Or anxiety or anger? Or hardened, stoic indifference? Have we become necessarily numb, detached, untouchable by the reality of this day? Are we facing 9/11/2014 with the same desperation for God that we felt on 9/11/2001? Are we mindful of our blessings of family, friends, health, and of the past thirteen years worth of tomorrows that once we imagined may never have come? Its a good day to take a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. And no one else can do it for us. Some of us wont want to, and we will opt out and try to pretend this is just like any other day. But every time we drive past an American flag at half-mast, we will be reminded of the reality. And we will be given, again and again today, opportunities for reflection. Are we living this life with intention and purpose, or are we just biding our time? Are we, to quote Rudyard Kipling, giving every sixty seconds its minutes worth? Are we making sure to use our time and energy and resources for the purpose of loving well? Are we hugging our children and telling our spouses we would choose them all over again if we could and are we making sure our friends know how much they mean to us? Are we going to sleep at night knowing we are held and hemmed in by perfect love, and allowing it to cast out all our fear? I ask these questions of myself as much as I challenge you to ask them of yourself. God bless America -- and while it is still today, may America bless God. * * * * * Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” (Psalm 91:1-2) #neverforget
Posted on: Thu, 11 Sep 2014 14:45:01 +0000
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