I knew the anniversary of the tragedies was coming, but I'm still amazed at how much like a punch in the stomach it felt like to turn on the radio this morning and hear people recount their experiences on that day. Of course everyone remembers where they were when they heard the news. I had gotten up at around 6:00 a.m. to nurse Max. He was not even a year old. I turned on the t.v. like I always did and tried to make sense of the footage on the news. At the time I put Max back to bed and went to wake Mark up, there had only been one plane. No one knew that the horror was just beginning. I told Mark about what had happened and went back to sleep. When I got back up and turned the t.v. on it seemed like the world was ending. Praise the Lord that Mason was only 2, and young enough to be completely shielded from what was going on. I took him to preschool and there was a note on the door instructing parents how to handle the days events with their small children. We didn't talk about it in front of the kids. At all. Adults couldn't process it, how could children? I am so thankful that even though my children were both alive on 9/11, the events of that day are no more than history that they have been told about as they've grown older, not something that they remember first hand. God bless the families. God bless the rescue workers. Let us remember how every heart cried out to God on that day. There was no indignation about national and world leaders praying. There was no screaming about separation of church and state on that day. Let us remember that our country needs God every day, not just on the worst day. May God bless you all on this September 11th.
