Sunday, September 11, 2011

A decade ago...


Ten years ago my little family was living on Luke Air Force Base on the west side of Phoenix where my husband, an Air Force mechanic at the time, was stationed. Luke was a relatively quiet base, at least from my point of view. I drove in and out of our little base housing neighborhood easily where guards were never posted, gates were always open, and anyone came and went with ease.

I was the mother of one 2 year old daughter then, and on September 10 had attended a doctor's visit where I heard, for the first time, the sweet sound of my newest baby's heartbeat. This was a much anticipated pregnancy that came on the heals of several heartbreaks. I went to bed that night with soaring hopes and peace in my heart.

The next morning my alarm came in the form of a very early morning phone call from my mother, living on the east coast. "Turn on the TV. A plane has just crashed into the World Trade Center." A picture lazily played through my mind of a confused pilot in a small private plane who must have lost control, and in my grogginess didn't understand the panic and what warranted such an early call. I did, however, stumble from bed and into the living room to turn the news on. As I stood in front of the television, phone to ear, mouth gaping and heart pounding, I witnessed a second plane fly into the other tower. It didn't register at first. How could this be happening? Not here. Not the U.S. I continued to listen as the news poured in. I began to wake up a little from the shock and went to my back door where I had a clear view of the closest housing gate. The gates were closed and a large tractor was placing concrete barricades on our side. That small action triggered something, a realization: our world would never be the same.

In the next few days that passed we remained in a sort of lock down. On September 12, the first presidency of our church broadcast a prayer meeting. Our small Air Force "family," which consisted of our closest friends in the area, gathered at one friend's house to watch it and grasp for some sense of peace. I had walked the one block over, and later as I pushed my daughter home in her stroller, was stopped by Security Police and questioned as to where I had been, where I was going, and then told to get back in my house and stay there. Once again, that former security was chipped away at.

As for most of us, time passed, healing occurred and for the most part life returned to normal but always  a "little something" in the back of my mind refused to let me forget entirely.



Today the girls and I got up and went through our normal Sunday routine of getting ready for church. JT was on call, so we went by ourselves. We were singing as we passed the post office and I noticed the flag at half staff. "Oh girls, it's 9/11. Let's not forget about it," I said non-chalantly. Then a thought occurred. The oldest are 12 and 9. They've lived through plenty of 9/11 anniversaries, even celebrated "Patriot Day" in school, but did they really know?

"Do you guys really know what happened that day?"

"Yes...kinda...not really...no."

For the first time I told the story of that day to ears that hadn't heard it. I spoke of the days that led up to it, my early morning phone call, the closed gate. Then, I began to recite the events. The Pentagon, the towers, their collapse, the firemen and policemen, the field in Pennsylvania. I choked on those words as sobs broke through my story, and I realized I hadn't forgotten the intense feelings of that day. I never want to. Complete silence was all that emanated from my six little girls as they listened to every word.

Ten years later, at 8:46 am eastern time, 10 years to the very minute of the first plane hitting the World Trade Center, I was sharing a testimony with my girls. We can't ever let evil win. Your daddy will deploy, it will be hard, and we won't like it, but it's his duty and he'll do it. He'll do it for us as many others have and will.

 A favorite quote from C.S. Lewis comes to mind. "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."

Tonight, as we watched video footage from that day, it still seems surreal. How could that have happened? And yet, it did. We learn from tragedy. I'm thankful for this day to reflect. I'm thankful for the defining moments that force me to stand a little taller, stretch a little further. Most of all, I'm thankful I haven't forgotten.