Just like any other American over a certain age, I can remember exactly where I was when the “world stopped turning” on September 11th, 2001. I was a senior in high school, and just starting my day in first-period home economics class. Lessons were paused. Mouths hung open. Tears started falling. Here, tucked away in the safety of the Midwest, the impact of what had happened in New York City shook even our tiny town. I can still remember a narrow-sighted boy from my class asking in disgust, “Why are we even watching this? It’s not like it’s going to affect us.” His words cling with me. How wrong he was. Not only did it affect us, and the world, but it affects our children.
When stepping out to take my daughter to preschool this morning. I couldn’t help but think about what the weather was like here on that day eleven years ago. It was similar to today, sunny and slightly cool. A beautiful morning. When and how would I ever tell her what had happened? Would she understand? Just then, she looked up into the sky and squealed, “Mommy, look! Look what two those airplanes did!” My heart immediately jumped, considering what was on my mind. I stepped off the porch to see what she was pointing at. “Those planes made a cross, just like in church! Just like Jesus!”
“Yes, honey, you’re right,” I told her. As I buckled her into her car seat, I felt a little better. I was reminded that there is so much good in this world, and even on our darkest days, we can still find hope.