Today I spent some time remembering the events of 9/11. I've intended for some time to make a scrapbook page about where I was and what I felt as I watched the events of that day unfold. I've been doing a little digital scrapbooking lately and decided today was the day.
I found the images online and added my own thoughts. The journaling reads:
I don’t remember where I was when Kennedy was shot, or when Elvis died. But I do remember where I was when the terrorists struck the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. I got up that morning and got on the treadmill to walk for a few minutes and when I turned on the TV they were just breaking in to regular programming with pictures of the first tower that had been hit. At that point they thought it was an accident. Somehow, a commercial airliner had crashed into the tower. They must have been off course somehow. The pictures were startling and everyone was in shock. And then, to our horror, as we watched, it happened again. Another plane came into the shot and we saw it hit the second tower. Anyone who was watching knew then it was more than an accident. But what? Nothing like this had ever happened before. Who would do something like this? And the terror didn’t stop there. The Pentagon was hit and then another plane crashed. Speculation was that it was headed for the White House. Little did we know how much the events of that day would change our country, and our lives. The images we saw that day will stay with us forever. The horror of knowing people were so terrified they jumped to their deaths. The hundreds of emergency responders who lost their lives because they rushed in to help. The 911 calls we heard from people at the top of the buildings. . . It’s hard now, 9 years after the fact, to even remember how different things were then, but they were. We didn’t worry as much. We didn’t have to hear every day about the troops who die in the Middle East because of what happened on that day. We didn’t see the kinds of security we see now, everywhere - at the mall, at the football game, in the airport, at school. The events of that day left a scar on our country. A scar that has healed a little over time, but anyone with a scar knows that the deeper the cut, the less likely it will disappear completely. And the scars left on that day will never disappear. Our country is changed forever. It makes me sad that my kids will never know a world before 9/11. Dawson was 2. Mason was barely conceived (we didn’t even know it yet, but would later that week.) I wish they could know that our country wasn’t always this scarred. That we didn’t used to look at so many people with suspicion. That there was a time where the thought of something so horrific had not even crossed our minds. I pray that their faith will protect them from the fear and that they will know that God was there with the 2,752 men and women who lost their lives that day. And that even though we can’t understand how anyone could do something like this, He is still God and we are in His hands no matter what the world around us looks like. And if we let it, His perfect love can cast out all our fear. Journaled on 9/11/10