Lessons from Sept. 11, 2001

With the 10th anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the United States approaching this weekend, I’ve been thinking about them.  A group of my friends recently recounted where we were when the attacks happened and how we were affected.  I very much remember that day.  I was 22 years old and working as a graduate assistant in the journalism department at Ball State University.  I went to get my mail in the copy room and a professor told me what happened.  I did little work the rest of the day.  I canceled a meeting with a printer.  I called my husband.  I had lunch with my mom and grandma.  I called my brother.  I glued myself to the news.  And I prayed.  I prayed for our country.  I prayed for the families of victims.  I prayed for victims.  These were short prayers.  I didn’t even know what to say.  I also just sat numb.

Now, a decade later, I’m in a different season of life.  I’m no longer a student.  I’m now a professional.  I’ve since returned to that same journalism department and taught classes.  I now have my own writing business.  And I am now a mother.  I’m left to think about what I will tell my child about Sept. 11 when she is old enough to comprehend.  I can’t imagine telling someone so sweet and so innocent about something so dark and ugly.  It seems more than I can bear, but I know the day will come when she will learn of these things.

And so, I’ve been thinking this week a little bit about what I will tell her.  Of course she will hear the details, whether from me or from a school teacher.  Mostly, though, I’d like to share with her the lessons I learned from Sept. 11, 2001.

A photo of the cross that was found amongst the rubble of the World Trade Center. It is an image that I've not forgotten a decade later.

First, I will tell her to appreciate each and every day and not to leave things unsaid.  Every day I see my husband off to work and say good-bye to him.  Sept. 11, 2001 brought home to me that life is so fleeting.  I thought of the spouses that day whose loved ones went to a regular work day.  I’m sure that not all of them left on great terms.  I’m sure that some didn’t even say a simple, “Have a good day.  I love you!”  Even though I’d only been married for two years at the time of the attacks, that made an impact on me.  Now, as a wife of 12 years, that lesson has stayed with me.  I want my daughter to understand it.  I don’t want her to live in fear.  I don’t want her to live in worry that when she says good-byes they will be forever, but I do want her to live without regrets.

Second, I will tell her that she must be tolerant.  I will explain to her that some bad men did some horrific things.  They used the name of their Muslim religion as an excuse.  However, I will also tell her that not everyone who is Muslim or Middle Eastern is a terrorist.  I will tell her that we need to be tolerant of others, even when they differ from ourselves.  We need to show everyone love.  It is what Jesus taught.

Third, I will tell her that she lives in a country filled with heroes.  I will make sure she knows about the firefighters who ran into burning buildings to save people knowing full well that they wouldn’t return.  I will tell her of the folks aboard the airplane who banded together and took on the terrorist to save more lives from being lost.  I will tell her these are the good people who make up the United States.  Sometimes it can be hard to see these people or to find them in the midst of all the craziness in our country, but they are there.  And when it really matters, they will stand out.

Fourth, I will tell her that we owe it to those lost to not forget.  She will not remember Sept. 11, 2001 as I do.  She won’t even remember this Sept. 11 since she’s not even 2, yet.  But, such events are those that we all must pause to remember occasionally.  We certainly shouldn’t dwell or get stuck on them, but we must remember them and honor those who were lost.  Just as I am aware of D-Day and the sacrifice made, including my own great-uncle who I never knew.  These are things to be remembered.

Another image I'll not forget. This one still makes me proud to be an American 10 years later, just as it did when I first saw it.

Fifth, I will tell her how our country can band together when it needs to.  I will tell her how for a short while, everyone was nicer to each other.  I will tell her how our government leaders pulled together and crossed party lines.  I will tell her how churches were so much fuller that following Sunday.  I will tell her how random strangers on the street would talk and try to make sense of what had happened together.  I will tell her that while this was fleeting and should be something we strive to get back to, that it’s at least comforting that it happened and is possible.

Finally, I will tell her that God was there on Sept. 11, 2001.  I will tell her that He showed up in so many places that day and held so many hands and hearts.  I will tell her that He did not forget our country that day, and He won’t forget it any day ever.  I will tell her that even through hard times, even through difficult days, He is right there.  I will tell her that when bad people do bad things, God mourns with us.  I will also explain to her that the gift of our own free will is what allows them to do these things, even when they are so incredibly wrong.  And I will remind her that God loves us, even when it seems like all hope is lost.

Sept. 11, 2001, brought its lessons.  It made me proud of my country as we pulled together.  It made me cry as I watched the heartache and loss.  It made me somber as I stood in a packed church the following Sunday seeing faces that I didn’t regularly see there.  It made me thankful as I laid down in bed that night beside my husband.  It makes me sad now to see how disconnected our country has again become.  It makes me sad to see how quickly we have turned from the rush to faith and God that came in the wake of this attack.  I pray that this anniversary will remind my country how blessed we are to live here and how blessed we are to have our families.

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