Nine-Eleven

I've been wanting to sit down and write a little about 9-11--especially after reading Sticker's post yesterday (dated September 9, 2008). My problem is that I get so emotional about 9-11. I didn't lose anyone personally, and I don't know anyone who lost someone. In reality, my life hasn't seemed to change a whole lot compared to all the lives that have been radically changed. But I do agree with a news reporter who said yesterday that every story is important. And I want Carrie and William to be able to remember that day--to never forget--and for Joshua and Matthew to know what we remember.

I find myself dreading the day and looking forward to its passing. I get so caught up in it. I want to just sit and watch the news programs report on all that is happening related to that day. It's an odd kind of thing--a horrific fascination--wanting to know more but being so horrified and saddened by the events that took place.

Yesterday morning, I sat with the kids, watched Fox & friends and relived that morning. Like every year, I started quietly sobbing.

William was so drawn to the news coverage. He was only 3 1/2 on September 11, 2001. He says that he remembers seeing the plane on the news over and over again. As I write this, he is watching the news that I recorded from yesterday.

Carrie remembers a little more--but not much. She was in kindergarten that year. She, too, remembers all the news coverage. As we watched the news yesterday and saw the replay of President Bush finding out in an elementary classroom, Carrie said, "Wow. He was just beginning his presidency. Poor President Bush." His presidency was shaped by that day.

Then I look at Joshua and Matthew. They will never have personal memories of the day. Only the retelling.

My personal story...
Our house was on the market that year. Carrie was in kindergarten. That Tuesday morning, Carrie, William and I were getting ready to go to a MOPS meeting at our church. It was only our second year of MOPS and I was the coordinator, so we had to leave early. On a usual morning, I would have had the news on and would have seen it all from the beginning--but that morning, I kept the TV off and just got us ready and out the door.

When we got to church, a little after nine, the secretary met us at the door and told us that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. That was all she knew. None of the moms who attended that morning really knew much about it. Our meeting went on as planned with little discussion of what might have happened.

It wasn't until after the meeting, when I got in the car and turned on the radio, that I found out more of what was going on. We had planned on going over to the mall to pick up a couple of things. I didn't know whether to go on over, but I decided to try. The store that we were going to go to was closed. Nervously, I drove us home. I got us all inside and locked the house doors. I remember feeling so vulnerable.

I got the kids' lunch and put on a movie for them in the family room. I spent the rest of the day in the kitchen, watching news coverage.

In the days that followed, I remember being drawn to the news coverage. I also remember helping the kids write letters and draw pictures that would be sent to New York for the firefighters. We hung a new flag and attended a special evening church service.

Seven years later, we relive that day with everyone else in America. Seven years later, we have Joshua and Matthew. Seven years later, we are still in the same house but have added on.

And today, life goes on.