On September 11, 2001, I had just started my senior year of high school. I had a free first period, which meant I got to sleep in later. On that morning, my mom came in and woke me up and told me that planes had flown into the World Trade Center. I immediately got up and came down stairs. As I was walking down the stairs, I saw the images flooding the news. The South Tower had just collapsed and the North Tower stood ablaze. The pentagon had been attacked. I remember just sitting there, stunned. At some point I had to go to school, but I don’t really remember any of that process. I must have gotten ready and drove in, somehow I have no recollection of it. That day all we did in all of my classes was watch the news. The next day, we were still watching the news. It took a few days to slowly return to normal classroom instruction. I stayed glued to the coverage for days, unable to break my focus from it. I was so deeply impacted as an American and yet I knew I was fortunate to be removed from the immediate tragedy.
As deeply impacted as I was then, I am affected in a different way now as a mother and as a wife. I now know more personally what the anguish of not knowing if your husband made it through, wondering if he would come through the door that night. I am keenly aware of the innocence of my children. Of course Avery is perfectly unaffected by the dark side of this world as yet, and Carter has only experienced it in brief and fleeting emotions. I was listening to the radio and a 9/11 tribute came on while Carter and I were driving this weekend. As I fought tears, Carter chirped in the back seat “The lady’s signing? I hear a guitar!” That moment strengthened my desire to scoop him up in my arms and protect that innocence forever, somehow never let my children know that there is evil in the world or experience the heartache of a fallen world. And yet, I know I can’t protect them. I know ultimately these children are gifts that I’ve been given, to cherish and shape, but ultimately they belong to the Lord. And that’s the only hope I have, the hope I cling to. The unspeakable evil of this world breaks the heart of the Father, but he is steadfast. His love is unfailing and His plan is perfect. Someday we will leave the pain of this world and spend our days with Him. My prayer is that I can teach my children that lesson and that they will also trust in Him.
But for now, I rock them a little longer, pray a little harder, and squeeze them a little tighter.
