Each week of my life is a countdown to Friday but I have to be honest when I say I was dreading the arrival of this particular one. I generally avoid any occasion which causes me to reflect upon the direction of my ever-changing life; such occasions which drag raw emotion to the surface are not among my list of favorites. Admittedly, I am a proud person and usually do not subject myself to public displays of unwelcomed sadness, thus causing me to tighten my jaw and to suck uninvited emotion down my throat so forcefully that it burns from the pain. Having said that, I must also note my heart has been so tender lately I have found myself shedding a tear or two in my office, hoping passers by will think I am having an allergic reaction to the high pollen count instead of a sentimental attachment to internet advertisements and reminders of this historic date. I guess that it what happens when my soul is so wounded that it bleeds for release, and there is no place for the sorrow to go but to overflow from my upper windows.
On this 11th day of September, 2009, I am pensive; my heart is anguished for the sufferings of friends and family, even those whom I have not met, yet feel an odd connection to. Although it is true that tragedy hits us hardest when it is close to home, I cannot help but feel tormented by the sufferings of my brothers and sisters within my community. Parents have passed, children have been left without, and spouses have been separated. As I tune into the world around me, I want to shrink from the height of these tempests. Good people are being elevated to new levels of faith and understanding, and I am standing here in the wake of the aftermath, trying to decipher the deeper meaning of it all, attempting to cushion the fragility of my circumstance, a condition we all suffer from, the temporal state of mortal life.
Eight years ago I sat in an office surrounded by students and faculty members buzzing about, going through the mundane trivialities of their day. My sister called me with the news of the first grounded flight and I was positive I did not hear her correctly. How could this be? Terrorism in America? Not my America. Not the place where I say my prayers, attend meetings of worship, and sing hymns of praise. Not the place where my loyalty, hopes, and dreams reside. Not the place where my forefathers traversed to make a better life. Not the place where my family lays their heads at night. Surely, this was all a mistake.
As I scrambled to find a television to help my mind and sensibilities connect, I realized it was not a mistake. A grievance had been carried out, and the vengeance of it left me feeling hollowed to my very core.
To this day, I have still not figured out how the depths of hatred could cause such atrocity. I fear I will never understand. And yet, I feel it is not important for me to understand either. I was touched how the world rallied behind our country, how Americans saw past their differences and how compassion and service became overriding principles of action. Yet it seemed to fade so quickly, and our scope began to shift ever so slightly. And then we allowed it to continue to shift, either because we were not aware of the shift or because we felt it was not significant enough to correct. We became a little less praiseworthy and a bit more prideful as we tossed our compass to the side, no longer needing or desiring its direction. We felt justified in criticizing and belittling our chosen leaders, and finding fault with institutions of morality and religion became second nature. How easily twisted the foundations of society can be. Scripture mingled with the teachings of men. It saddens me to even write such things.
I cannot change the minds of those who do not agree with me. I don't want to change them as I would not have them change me; our uniqueness is our strength. I only know what I believe and I believe the attacks on that fateful day changed our nation forever. For good or bad, I appreciate the personal call to humility, an enhanced perspective of eternity, and a purer love of family. Tonight, as I hug my young son, I will hold him a little tighter and linger with him a bit longer. I will focus on my call to duty, and hope, ever so slightly, my small contribution to the world around me will somehow leave it better, make it a little more beautiful, and illuminate it one ray brighter. Tomorrow is a new day. Let's make it a good one, shall we?
2 comments:
You write so beautifully. I wish I could express myself with words the way you do! You have a true talent. Thanks for posting this. I feel very much the same way.
I like how you said "Good people are being elevated to new levels of faith and understanding" As I see family members go through heartwrenching trials, i can testify that this is true. It's hard to understand sometimes why faithful, good people go through such terrible things. It seems in the past few years, the tempest has been just raging. But I can see the refining process happening as well. Love this post, Erika!
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