Today

I've debated about posting anything today. There have been many tributes, words, thoughts, and remembrances about this particular day nine years ago. And for some reason...I have a hard time with these sentiments. I realize this sounds a bit harsh, but I'm hoping the following will give some insight.

I fell in love with that city in July of 1999. I took one small bag...booked a $189 round-trip plane ticket...and slept on a fold out couch graciously offered by some friends interning there for the summer. Laura and I toured the gigantic maze of concrete for 3 days...and it was great!

Without going into too much detail, I came back from that trip with a sense of pure happiness. I'd never experienced anything like it before and knew I'd go back-hoping another visit would come sooner rather than later. Well...I did go back...about 10 times in the last 11 years...and each visit has its own story.

When Mrs. Hollis walked into my classroom to tell me about the towers, my heart sunk...then a bit of panic. We all walked around in a stooper for the next couple of days, raising flags, and singing "God Bless America" through streaming tears. We were hurt, scared, and angry.

So...what have I done with those feelings? Where did they go? Honestly, they no longer linger as they did following the days of the attacks. I've even seen that huge hole in the lower east side of Manhattan, and it can't be erased from my memory. Being at the site was one of the eeriest things I've ever experienced. Chilling. Sad. Humbling. I can conjure that image up "when needed" in order to "feel" for the people whose lives were changed forever-like today for instance. However, I don't walk by it everyday...I don't see the memorials, hear the stories, or deal with the loss of loved ones. And chances are...neither do you.

I hate that this day ever happened...but what I hate more is that I take my freedom for granted everyday. Those initial feelings resulting from the attacks have disappeared for the most part. Why? Because, basically, my earthly freedom is not in jeopardy on a daily basis. In my 33 years, that freedom was taken from me for a brief moment on September 11, 2001--but as the years have passed--there were actions taken in order to restore my security here. And I'm thankful for that-even if I have to put my liquids in a baggie and basically strip down to my undies when going through airport security.

Today is not about my thoughts, my feelings, my tributes, my memories, or my remembrances because I truly wasn't affected by that day---because if I was--I would be more aware of my freedom...maybe to a fault...where I could not stay quiet about it...maybe even being quite annoying. A constant mindset that was unrelenting and completely unashamed.

Which brings me to a parallel...I am free. Because of Jesus. So- why do I stay quiet about Him? Why do I only conjure up His image when "needed" (like that huge hole) and not constantly give Him the glory on the days when life is good. Haven't I been graciously given the greatest freedom of all, yet on most days, live unaffected by this knowledge...just like 09/11/01?

So, I do want to remember this day--not because it is what we are "suppose" to do--but because it is a reminder that our freedom here is temporary--and should give way to true freedom found only in Him.

I love NYC...but I love Jesus more. Today is just another reminder of His love for me...and that's why we should never forget.