September 11, 2007

I have been doing a lot of flashing back this weekend, remembering my first weeks of seminary and how hard they were. Today I flashed back to 2001. This day in 2001. In the midst of homework and chapel and paper work and class, I tried to take time to remember. Remembering the victims, the firefighters and policemen, the families, even the terrorists twisted into thinking that an act of destruction could be a good thing. I've heard so many people say that they will never forget where they were when Kennedy was shot. For me it was the day the Challenger exploded. Until 2001. I was at a temp job, sitting, writing about boyfriend troubles in my journal as I waited for the phone to ring so that I could answer it. The news came in in bits and pieces. Wives called to tell their husbands. Men went to watch video in another room. I had to stay and answer the phone that did not ring. I searched the Internet for news. I wondered where my family was. I longed to be with my friends at the theatre. Even more I wanted to be at the church. I wanted to be somewhere where I could be helpful in some way. I wanted to be somewhere where I could talk to someone, where I could pray with people, where I could make contact with other people. I could not wait for the work day to be over so that I could go to church. I prayed. I thought of Star Wars when the planet blows up. So much loss of life. So much destruction. It was a gorgeous day, like today. Cool and clear with a brilliant blue sky, storms having passed in the night. The incongruity between the beauty of the day and the horror was a tension that was hard to hold.

I still have a lot of grief about 9/11, and in some ways I hope I always do. I know that the job of the living is to keep on living. But it seems like once a year it's okay to give in to the grief and to take moments to remember. I listened to the Alan Jackson song a couple of times. We had chapel with Garrett today, and I was relieved when their president addressed the day. We don't have to dwell in sorrow, joy will come in the morning, but I don't want to forget. I wrote a lot in my journal that day, and one line strikes me every time I read it, "How I wish I were just bored." How I wish I were just bored, how I wish I hadn't said that mean thing to a loved one, how I wish I weren't complaining about petty things, how I wish I had not been so busy, all the things we say after tragedy. Life is short. Days like today remind me to make the most of it.