September 12

Today I have read the memories that so many of us have of September 11, 2001. Poetic, beautifully written words of how that day changed the lives of so many. I listened to the radio and heard stories retold of where someone was on that day, that morning. People always remember where they were when something of this magnitude happens. I remember too, but it is my memory, my story. I don’t want to tell it, fearful that the telling will blur the memory or perhaps lessen the pain that comes with remembering. 

Remembering is important, feeling the pain again is important.

 Today’s technology allows us to replay the moments that were recorded on that infamous morning. I didn’t want to watch it again. But I couldn’t help it. Just like that morning eleven years ago I was unable to take my eyes off the images, unable to ignore the sounds of September 11. It’s different though, because we know how it ends. Like a movie you’ve already seen, we know who the bad guy is; we know that the first explosion is followed by a second, bigger, scarier explosion. But knowing doesn’t change how we feel. We don’t get up and leave before it’s over, because we want to see. We want to remember.

I have the same memories of so many of you but what I want to remember, what I want to tell you about is September 12, 2001.

On the day after I remember the sun coming up in the east, the sky an almost perfect blue, and no reminisce of 9/11. I remember arriving at work and seeing our flag, Old Glory, our symbol of freedom, flying high above the building. The red white and blue saying “Don’t tread on me.”  I remember praying, and knowing that God was hearing me. I remember knowing that God was still there.

4015 day after’s have now come and gone. The things that are meant to still be there are there.

Each morning the sun still rises on our great nation.

Our flag, liberty and justice for all, still flutter’s high and proudly.

Our memories of September 11, 2001 are still with us.

The pain of loss remains.

God.