Not having a TV tends to make us a bit disconnected from popular culture and current news.
So this morning it took me a minute to figure out what was going on when I turned on NPR and all I heard was someone reading names (a snippet of the memorial ceremony in New York). Then I realized, it was September 11th. The date that has so much significance. It brings back memories of horror, disbelief, sorrow, heroism, and fear.
Like the generation before me who told me the memories of where they were on the day JFK was assassinated I will pass on my memories of September 11, 01 to my children. Just like I could never fully understand the emotions on the day that was so significant to my parents my children will never fully grasp the depth of emotion in me as I stood in the lobby of the DFCS office watching the first tower smolder and knowing in my gut that a small plane off course could never do that much damage. No sooner had I verbalized that thought to my coworkers than we watched the second plane smash the second tower.
It is common knowledge that I am not a particularly patriotic person. My childhood experiences of living among people of many nationalities has shaped me into a person who doesn't ever feel completely at home here in the United States. I have never felt a strong affiliation to any particular nation.
Yet patriotism was not a prerequisite to feeling the sorrow, fear and loss of that day. The minimum amount of work got done as we congregated in the break room with the TV on. The images were almost too much to handle. At home I would sit in front of the TV for hours as the details unfolded. I found myself drawn to the stories of people searching for missing loved ones. I wept when I heard the last conversations of sons, daughters, husbands, wives, fathers, mothers. I marveled at the heroism of the men and women who went into the collapsing buildings in a desperate attempt to save the lives of others. I did not need to be patriotic to feel the fragile thread of mortality.
And yet, maybe my lack of patriotism also kept me separated from the extreme anger and need for vengeance that I sensed in the people around me. I felt sorrow for all the innocent life lost, but in some way it connected me to the sorrow of people who experience this loss of life on a daily basis. I grieved not just for those of us in America who were experiencing this wrenching terror but also for the mothers in Africa who watch their children die every day from preventable diseases, for the children sold into slavery, for the young girls whose bodies are sold for another man's pleasure, for the people in countries where terrorist attacks are a reality of everyday life as common as stepping on a bus or going to the market, for those who couldn't walk freely over their land for fear of landmines left behind from the last invader.
I grieved for this sinful world in which war, starvation and terror seem more common than uncommon.
And so, I use September 11 not just to remember and mourn the event that happened on American soil but also to remember and mourn the events that happen around the world every day that cause terror and loss of life. I also use September 11 as a reminder that this world is not my home. One day the wars and terror will cease. Come quickly Lord Jesus!
I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world. John 16:33
So this morning it took me a minute to figure out what was going on when I turned on NPR and all I heard was someone reading names (a snippet of the memorial ceremony in New York). Then I realized, it was September 11th. The date that has so much significance. It brings back memories of horror, disbelief, sorrow, heroism, and fear.
Like the generation before me who told me the memories of where they were on the day JFK was assassinated I will pass on my memories of September 11, 01 to my children. Just like I could never fully understand the emotions on the day that was so significant to my parents my children will never fully grasp the depth of emotion in me as I stood in the lobby of the DFCS office watching the first tower smolder and knowing in my gut that a small plane off course could never do that much damage. No sooner had I verbalized that thought to my coworkers than we watched the second plane smash the second tower.
It is common knowledge that I am not a particularly patriotic person. My childhood experiences of living among people of many nationalities has shaped me into a person who doesn't ever feel completely at home here in the United States. I have never felt a strong affiliation to any particular nation.
Yet patriotism was not a prerequisite to feeling the sorrow, fear and loss of that day. The minimum amount of work got done as we congregated in the break room with the TV on. The images were almost too much to handle. At home I would sit in front of the TV for hours as the details unfolded. I found myself drawn to the stories of people searching for missing loved ones. I wept when I heard the last conversations of sons, daughters, husbands, wives, fathers, mothers. I marveled at the heroism of the men and women who went into the collapsing buildings in a desperate attempt to save the lives of others. I did not need to be patriotic to feel the fragile thread of mortality.
And yet, maybe my lack of patriotism also kept me separated from the extreme anger and need for vengeance that I sensed in the people around me. I felt sorrow for all the innocent life lost, but in some way it connected me to the sorrow of people who experience this loss of life on a daily basis. I grieved not just for those of us in America who were experiencing this wrenching terror but also for the mothers in Africa who watch their children die every day from preventable diseases, for the children sold into slavery, for the young girls whose bodies are sold for another man's pleasure, for the people in countries where terrorist attacks are a reality of everyday life as common as stepping on a bus or going to the market, for those who couldn't walk freely over their land for fear of landmines left behind from the last invader.
I grieved for this sinful world in which war, starvation and terror seem more common than uncommon.
And so, I use September 11 not just to remember and mourn the event that happened on American soil but also to remember and mourn the events that happen around the world every day that cause terror and loss of life. I also use September 11 as a reminder that this world is not my home. One day the wars and terror will cease. Come quickly Lord Jesus!
I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world. John 16:33
1 comment:
It's funny; I have not heard one person talk about the events, here in the States. Neither Last year or this year. I wonder why.
Nice writing Sarah
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