Remembering September 11th

I don't get serious very often, and as my blog progresses, you'll come to see that. But I'd like to take this opportunity to reflect on September 11, 2001. It's been six years since that horrible, terrible day. I remember it like it was yesterday, and probably will for the rest of my life.

I was still at Dixie College, in St. George, Utah. One of my friends came and woke me up and told me what happened. I immediately started crying and turned on the news. I called my family at home in California - it just killed me that I wasn't with them. I made my dad tell me what happened over and over. I begged him to tell me everything that was going on, only to find out that he didn't know anymore than I did. I guess I still believed that my parents could explain everything and make it all right again. I blame September 11 for the loss of what was left of my innocence.

Classes were cancelled at school. Everyone was crying. One of my friends was worried about her dad because he was supposed to be on one of the flights. Thank goodness he wasn't. He cancelled his plans at the last minute. He was lucky. It was so weird not to see planes flying overhead. It was quiet up there. Too quiet. Eerily quiet. I didn't like it.

We had a candlelight vigil a few days later. We sang the National Anthem. A few denominations led prayers. Again, everyone was crying. People were holding hands with complete strangers. There was lots of hugging.

I didn't understand - and still don't, come to think of it - how people could just do something terrible like that to another group of people. Why did the people of Al Qaeda think they could do that to us?

I watched the towers come down. I saw the expressions of shock, horror, disbelief, sadness, terror, and despair on people's faces. I saw people jumping to a faster death than wait for a slow one in the towers. Too many kids lost parents that day. Too many people lost family members, friends, neighbors, co-workers and loved ones that day.

But do you know what else I saw?

I saw people join hands and pray together. I saw people helping total strangers. I saw people run into the wreckage but not come out again. I saw people giving up their lives so that others might live. I saw a nation come together and unite against those that would see us divide and fall.

My eyes are tearing up as I write this, but it's a good cry. I'm crying for all those people that didn't go home that day, but I'm also crying in pride that I live in this country. America isn't perfect, but it's my home.

Please take a minute to reflect on this day and remember those who didn't go home. Remember those who did not go down without a fight. Remember that freedom is not free.

84,000 blessings to you.