Reposted from
Gooseberry Lane. Original post date: 9/11/2011.
Ten years ago today, shortly after breakfast, my daughter and I began
her spelling lesson for the day. Being homeschoolers who were starting
a new school year, we decided to get an early start. The weather was
absolutely gorgeous, one of those memorable mornings with the smell of
crisp, clean autumn air wafting in the open windows and the warm feel of
not-yet-departed late summer temperatures spreading over you if you
stood in the sunshine. My husband had departed for work at the Home
Depot but had returned home by the time Flight 77 had crashed into the
Pentagon. I recall standing next to him in the family room watching the
initial coverage of that third attack. Like many Americans, I remember
exactly where I was that fateful morning.
Yesterday
evening, my family and I were discussing how best to mark this most
important anniversary. Aside from attending Sunday morning worship
services, I suggested watching the film
United 93 since we had
never viewed it. My husband, who purchased the movie, replied, "I don't
think I am ready to watch that yet." Given that response, I decided to
see how the day unfolded rather than try to plan some elaborate
commemorative observance.
This morning, as I was
preparing to leave for church, I turned on Fox News and began watching
the Ground Zero memorial service. I wasn't able to catch very much of
it as I had to leave for church after about the first thirty minutes. I
did begin to hear the names of the dead prior to getting in my car. As
I traveled down the freeway, I continued to listen to the service on
the radio. At some point, a news commentator described how a family
member of one of the victims physically traced over the name of her
loved one on the plaques that surround the new reflecting pools. It
occurred to me that if I did not have a grave to visit, if I had never
received the remains of a loved one, that simple act of touching the
name of a loved one would be a tremendously meaningful act of
remembrance and healing and closure, like me traveling to Minnesota for
the first time after my father died and placing my hand on his
headstone. Tears welled up in my eyes right then and I worried that I
would cry through church*
Around noon, I headed to a
picnic and enjoyed the company of friends and loved ones, much like I do
on Memorial Day. In fact, the entire mood of the day felt very similar
to Memorial Day: remembrances, fellowship meals, cookouts, small flags
in the cemetery, family get-togethers, etc. Maybe in future, September
11th (rather than Labor Day) will be the holiday that marks the
beginning of fall at my house.
It makes sense to bookend my
summer, my time of rest and relaxation, vacation and fun, with days of
remembrance and recognition where I pause to remember the people who
died so I can enjoy such a season of renewal in peace, comfort, and
security.
Yesterday, my daughter and I participated in a
local heritage event exploring the history of the Civil War in
commemoration of the 150th anniversary of the start of that conflict.
At the closing ceremony, Abraham Lincoln (a re-enactor) recited the
Gettysburg Address and a local pastor recited a prayer written by a
Civil War soldier before giving a benediction. As "President Lincoln"
spoke, I made a point of focusing on the words of the Gettysburg
Address, meditating on them in the context of the 9/11 anniversary and
the dedication of the memorial at Ground Zero. I encourage my readers
to do the same and, to that end, I offer the words of that famous
address so you can think on them now.
Four score and
seven years ago our fathers brought forth, on this continent, a new
nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all
men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great
civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and
so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of
that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final
resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might
live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But,
in a larger sense, we can not dedicate --- we can not consecrate --- we
can not hallow --- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who
struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or
detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say
here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the
living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they
who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to
be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us --- that from
these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which
they here gave the last full measure of devotion --- that we here highly
resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain --- that this
nation, under God, shall not perish from the earth.
May
you and your family have a time of quiet remembrance, dedicated
service, and family connection this September 11th. My best wishes to
you all.
*Sadly, and embarrassingly, my
pastor never mentioned the 9/11 anniversary in church. Neither did we
sing any patriotic songs (like "God Bless America"), nor were any
prayers offered for the victims, their families, or the first
responders. Basically, the event went unrecognized.
