I missed most of the media coverage of September 11th anniversary, though they were replaying some footage where we went to lunch. That was a good way to talk to the kids about it. They were 3 and 5 when it happened, so they only remember/ know what they have been told about it. I heard some people complain that there was too much media coverage/ dredging up the past. I'm glad I wasn't here to watch it. I can so easily get caught up.
One thing I heard on the radio last week that I do want us all to remember is September 12th. I heard a radio interview -- I think he was the contractor/ architect/ something to do with the memorial plaza being constructed at the site of the World Trade Centers. He said that the feeling they were trying to convey wasn't the awfulness and destruction of September 11, but how we felt on September 12.
He said something along the lines of "On September 12th, people volunteered to find survivors, they made sandwiches for rescue workers, they donated blood, and they flew their flags. We showed that it wasn't over, and that we were in this together."
Yes.
September 12. THAT is what I want to remember.
Because here's the deal: I frequently thank the Lord for tiny, minuscule things in my life: the ability to walk across the floor with no assistance or prosthetics, that my children, spouse, and myself are all healthy, not requiring regular medication and/or hospital visits, for providing SO much that we need and then some that we have clutter (and on and on...). However, I rarely thank Him for one HUGE thing: the roll of the cosmic lottery that had me born to two parents that a)wanted me and loved me b) still love each other and stayed married and c) live in a country where we are free to make fashion choices as heinous as skinny jeans when we have no business wearing them or Uggs with short shorts, and can post entire blogs, Facebook posts, and whathaveyous about how much we dislike, distrust, and don't care for our current leader.
And all of those fashion and political freedoms make us as a people occasionally an intolerable bunch to live with, but when the rubber meets the road, we are a scrappy people, resilient and strong. This isn't a "my country can beat up your country" post. This is a "I'm very thankful for where I live and the people that live here with me" post. To honor September 12 -- go do something! Volunteer -- give blood, donate to the Texas Wildfire Fund, help out at your local Meals on Wheels, be a Big Brother or Big Sister. Do one of the bazillions of things that makes us a working team in this country.
As for me, I am currently writing from my front porch, my puppy at my feet, deciding which of those things to do. What a great day, September 12.
1 comment:
LOVE your post!!!
I taught school. And slept in my own bed. 'Twas a good, good day.
We did some video watching and discussing of and reading about in my lang. arts class. I asked the kids what they had learned that was new. . .but I didn't even talk to my own children about it. It got overshadowed on Sunday by getting to go home, and yesterday by getting to go to school. But every day that we get up and have a "normal" day despite the knowledge that evil is out there is a good, good day. Because Good is ALL around us. Love you.
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