September 11, 2001

     On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I had an 8 o'clock class at UW-Parkside. I was running late as I got into my car to go, frustrated that I slammed my wrap skirt in the car door. I remember wondering if I had time to stop for coffee. As I started the car, my frustration grew as my local rock station wasn't playing rock music at all, but some sort of staticky, strange broadcast. As I drove through town I flipped through the radio trying to find music. Finally as I realized they were all playing the same broadcast, I decided to listen. I drove, shocked at what they were saying. Two planes had hit the World Trade Center towers. The man on the radio sounded bewildered, shocked and confused as he was speaking. It reflected perfectly how I felt. I remember driving with my mouth hanging open, looking at people next to me at stoplights, the recognition in their eyes too. We were all moving through town as one. A city hundreds of miles away that I have never been too was suddenly so dear and precious to me. I was praying fervently as I listened.


     At school chaos and rumors and fears roamed the halls with the students. As I was walking in I ran into my friend Tom who told me he had heard there were 11 other planes hijacked and headed towards major cities throughout the country (this obviously turned out to be false, but it was a rampant rumor on campus). Fear gripped my heart. Students were all over campus running to their rooms or the computer labs, trying to get ahold of loved ones. It was as if the whole of the nation was suddenly a suburb of New York City. We all wanted to make sure our loved ones were safe.

     I stumbled, now 30 minutes late, into my English War Lit class. It was odd, they were going on as if nothing had happened. As I took a seat my professor eyed me. I raised my hand. He was clearly annoyed that I was interupting his discussion of Catch-22. When he called on me I asked if they knew planes where crashing into the Twin Towers. He said they did, that it was old news, did I think I was the only person who knew about it. This disturbed me so much. How could he not care, how could these people sit here and be in class when this was happening. I left class. I went to the computer lab and emailed my dad. He works in Chicago and I was concerned for him because there was also a rumor that all major cities were being evacuated. He emailed me back immediately that he was okay, they were all huddled around a small portable TV someone happened to have in their car. They weren't working, they were keeping each other company, people in his office clinging to one another. I called my friend Kristen who was a flight attendent. She didn't answer and that bothered me. Her voicemail box was full, so I couldn't leave a message. Everyone was probably worried about her.

     Back at home, the family I was living with was huddled around the TV. I joined them. We sat and watched all day as Peter Jennings kept going, reporting what was coming in as fast as possible. We were stunned. Tears fell down all our faces that day. We sat and watched all day and late into the night. I don't think I slept at all that night. At about 4am I quit trying and went back down to watch the news again. They were all there too. Nobody could sleep. Peter Jennings included, he broadcast live for two days straight through.

     They say nothing bonds you more to someone than going through a tragedy together. I had never felt so bonded to my country before. I had never felt so connected to people, those that were known to me and those that were unknown. As the stories of heroism and small victories came out, I felt their triumph. As families on TV wandered through Ground Zero, I felt their grief and shock. As the Towers fell and that video of that tsunami of wreckage racing down the street aired, I felt the panic and fear of those people running for cover.

     And now, nine years later, I can still feel it all.

     I was watching The History Channel last night. There was a program on about 9/11 Conspiracies. I felt so outraged, so betrayed almost by these American people who think that this could have possibly have been brought on by our government. I thought that this must be such a small group of people who think this way, those who call themselves "Truthers", but then driving to work this morning I saw signs up and down one of the main roads I drive for a "Truth Conference". I don't know much about the government, but as a Christian, I do know that God has placed these men and women as our leaders, regardless of who you voted for. I pray for these people, and I honestly believe that the majority have our best interests at heart. It is shocking to me that these extremists can be so full of pride that they can't acknowledge a defeat. That they can't acknowledge the lives that were taken or the lives that were forever changed by these events. How can we as a country move forward if we can't even realize the event was real?

     One thing I absolutely loved in the aftermath of 9/11 was the community. How we all came together. How it didn't matter who was next to you, we all held held hands and joined together. It was beautiful.

     I'm currently reading a book by Sarah Cunningham. I think she sums it up perfectly in this passage--

The immediate and generous response of our small city, which—on a normal day—is six hundred and fifty miles from Ground Zero, made it seem like New York was our next door neighbor. Thus, by the time all the follow-up emails and phone calls had been exchanged and we announced our clearance to help man the Salvation Army’s relief stations in New York, Jackson was falling all over itself to support our new endeavor.


Before this point, recruiting volunteers or donations for service projects sometimes felt more like asking people to give up vital organs while they were still living and in need of them. After the towers fell, however, asking for help became akin to asking people for a simple cup of water. Residents arrived weighed down by armfuls of donations, as if the items they were bringing poured out of their faucets for free.


~Excerpt from Part IV of Picking Dandelions: A Search for Eden Among Life’s Weeds

     If there's one thing I learned from 9/11, it's that we are all so much alike in our humanity. We all need to believe in the good of each other, we all feel the same things, we all long for Someone bigger than ourselves to intervene.

     When I think about the things going on now regarding 9/11, the conspiracies, the pastor in Florida with his Koran burning, the taxi driver in New York who was stabbed when asked if he was Muslim by a man with a multi-faith peace group background and the mosque that wants to be built near the site of Ground Zero, I can't help but think that we are all the same. We are all fearful on some level, we are all wanting justice, we are all trying to make sense out of such an extreme act of terror. I am not trying to justify any of these things, but I am trying to understand where they are coming from.

     Maybe if we all learned to love each other, these things wouldn't happen. Love is so strong. As a Christian, I am called to love my neighbor as myself. 9/11 is a good reminder for me. How am I doing in my love? Who have I loved lately that might be deemed unlovable by others? Have I been building walls or tearing them down?

     Spirit come, rain down on me. You're everything that I need.

My Story, Part 1

I grew up in Midwest town called Kenosha, Wisconsin. My dad was a pastor at a Pentecostal church, and that church was the background of my childhood. So many memories and main events of my childhood took place there. All my best friends grew up there with me. Friends from school would tease me about being religious, but they just didn't know how great it was on the inside. To grow up a part of such a tight knit community and positive atmosphere was great. I felt as if I was on the very pulse of life.


Big Sunday dinners of roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, homemade biscuits with butter and honey, honey glazed carrots and so on and so forth. Every Sunday and every Wednesday, Robert, the church organist and perpetual bachelor, would come over to eat with us. Without fail he would show up every time with pie from Baker's Square. Key Lime, Lemon Meringue, Boston Crème, French Silk, you name it we had it multiple times. Life was chock full of church choir rehearsals, Christmas & Easter Cantata's, Christmas & Easter Children's Productions, church picnics, Heaven's Gates & Hell's Flames Drama's, Sunday School, Cell Groups, sleepovers, day trips, Summer Camp, Winter Camp and so much more.

The home I grew up in was full of laughter, life, singing, music, family meals and had a rotating door. We had people living with us all the time. Very few others did this in our church, but we took in those who needed help. Our house was the neighborhood hang out for all the neighborhood kids. Sunday nights after the evening service we would invite people back to our house for ice cream and nachos. While the adults would chat, us kids would sit with our bowls of ice cream and nachos and watch The Three Stooges or The Discovery Channel. During the week my two younger brothers and I would wake up and get ready for the day, eat breakfast and then we'd have our Family Devotions. Dad got us all One Year Bible's for Christmas one year and we would read from it every morning together. Then we'd be off to school only to come home to mom's warm chocolate chip cookies, then we'd do our homework, watch a little TV, come in for a big family dinner and then play outside til bedtime where mom and dad would pray over us and tuck us in every night.

Thinking back on all this seems like such a fairytale, but growing up in it made it normal. I thought everyone had wonderful lives like mine. Obviously as I grew older I began to realize this wasn't true. But it was still so far from me that it didn't seem like it could really be that bad for people. Surely life couldn't be so hard as friends at school said their home lives were. I went to public schools. I was the only one of my friends who did. My parents didn't want us growing up in such a Christian bubble and wanted us to learn how to relate to the “real world”.

Yet still it took me a long time to understand that not every little girl had wonderful memories of her braids flicking in the wind as she rode on the back of her dad's bicycle or of her mom taking her out on Mother/Daughter days of shopping. Not every family went on walks together through the neighborhood after dinner or looked forward to the family vacation every year or did Family Devotions.

And even though my safe little world popped like the big bubble it was when I was fourteen, I wouldn't trade it for anything. For a short time in my life, everything was perfect.  And even though my memories of that time are rosier than they maybe really were, it seems impossible for me to stop thinking of them in that way. I am so thankful for the family and home I was born into.

Something Hungry This Way Comes

I wasn't going to tell anyone about this, but just let them notice.  However, I feel too excited not to talk about it!  (Shocking, I know) 

I am dieting.  I am not a very good dieter.  I don't even like to say I'm dieting, I like to say lofty things like, I'm making a lifestyle change.  Which is ultimately true, but just sounds so hokey to me.  Especially in the begining. 

But I am committed.

Plus, it's only for 80 days.  So that doesn't seem unbearable in the grand scheme of life.

Today is Day 4.  I've already lost 4lbs.  This is maybe the last time I'll write about this sort of thing on my blog, so don't worry I'm not returning to my blogging roots.  (What do you mean?  You didn't know this blog started out as a weight loss blog?!?  Well it did.  You simply have to look at my first posts to figure that one out.)

If you want more details of what I'm doing, you won't find them here, you'll just have to ask me. 

I thought that if I told all of you, I would become more committed because suddenly you all know.

I don't necessarily want to talk about it either.  It's just easier for me if I sort of ignore it, don't think about it.  Cause once you start thinking about what you're doing...well, let's just say it's easy to freak out and stop doing it.  :)

September

is here!!!