Remember

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I wake up. It is a typical Tuesday morning in our little house in Oregon. Shannon is off on his morning run, and 3 year old Liz sleeps soundly in her big girl bed. 6:00. I’d better get a move on, or breakfast will be late, and then Shannon will be late for work.

I fix breakfast, relishing the calm quiet of the morning. Shannon comes in from his run, and kisses me good morning. As I put the finishing touches on breakfast, he gets himself ready for work.

7:00. We sit down to breakfast as a family and give thanks to God for providing us with nourishing food. We thank him for the day He has given us and for his abundant blessings.

7:30. Breakfast is over. Shannon heads to the bedroom to grab his tie for work. I casually flip on the TV to watch the Today show. Katie Couric is talking. A recap…a second plane has hit the World Trade Center…

I sit down on the couch in shock. “Shannon, come here!”, I beckon, my voice shaky. He comes. He sees. He’s shocked. He watches with me for a while, until he can watch no more. He heads to work.

I wish I could turn the television off, but my eyes are glued to the set. In horror, I hear that another plane has hit the Pentagon. And yet another crashes in rural Pennsylvania. Tower 2 falls. Tower 1 falls. People run, screaming through the streets. Thousands are feared dead.

The phone rings. My mother-in-law is on the line. No, I have not heard from sister-in-law. Is she flying today? She frequently flies to and from Boston. Nobody has heard from her. I wait. I pray.

More television. More horrible images. More frantic people looking for loved ones. Thank goodness Liz is playing quietly in her room. Thank goodness she’s too young to understand.

The phone rings again. Sister-in-law is safe. She’s at her office in Oregon. Praise God. Everyone is accounted for. In my family anyway. My heart breaks for those who don’t know where their loved ones are.

5:30. Shannon is home. Where did the day go? Is this a bad dream? It’s all a haze. We somehow manage to eat dinner and put Liz to bed. The din of the television is the only sound. It has to be a bad dream.

September 12. 6:00. The alarm goes off. I wake up. I turn on the news. It’s not a dream. It’s all too real.

We must never forget the people who lost their lives on that awful September day. Many heroes were made that day, from ordinary people in the World Trade Center lending each other a helping hand, to the firefighters and policemen who gave their lives to rescue others, to the people on flight 93 who brought a plane down in rural Pennsylvania, so it wouldn’t hit it’s intended target.

I’m grateful for the people who fought valiantly that day and for our men and women in uniform who have fought to keep our country safe since then. May God’s blessings be abundant to them and their families as we remember this tragic day in our nation’s history. God bless America.

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