Reflection

10 years ago, I was a sophomore in high school. I had only been dating my first boyfriend for almost 2 weeks. My older brother was starting his senior year and we were both in band together. I had joined the color guard and we were learning a pretty tough routine to our marching show based off of "West Side Story". My brother was also the drum major and my parents were the Band Booster Presidents for the year.  During marching season, starting the first day of school, we had to get our butts up to school in time for 7 a.m. rehearsals. My high school schedule had 4 period blocks and marching band was always 1st hour. By the time we finished with band and headed to our 2nd hour class, which for me was Algebra 2, the planes had already hit both towers. I remember no one was really talking in the hallway and I barely glanced at the television that was on at the time when I sat at my desk for math. Once I realized everyone was watching, I figured it out something was wrong.

It just didn't feel real. It was almost like when I saw the footage of the Murrah Building in 1995. Without being there and feel the terror first hand, (we were living in Arkansas at the time), it was hard for my mind to wrap around what was happening. I remember my math teacher saying we would just watch what was happening because it was an important event in history for us. I just could not do anything more than stare blankly at the television.

At lunch time, sophomores were not allowed to leave campus to eat so my friends and I sat around a table and talked. I can't even tell you what we talked about. I'm sure the attack was mentioned, but it was all a blur to me.

My 3rd hour class was jazz choir and I barely remember what happened there either. I do know we didn't rehearse. After a while, if my memory serves me correct, the high school excused everyone for the rest of the day and my brother drove us home. Usually I went to my boyfriend's house to hang out because he lived in the neighborhood behind our school. That day, I just wanted to go home. I don't even remember the rest of the day or how I felt or what was said.

However, it didn't stop there for me.

Although I was not directly hurt by these attacks because I did not personally know anyone that lost their lives that day, life changed almost immediately. You see, my hometown is home to an air force base. Not just any base, but one that is pretty important to the country. I believe I've heard it's in the top 10 in terms of importance. For the next few weeks, we had multiple bomb threats to our school as well as the base. Anonymous tips lead police to believe there was a bomb in one of the schools on 2 occasions the week immediately following 9/11. We were evacuated outside, in the Oklahoma heat, for usually over an hour before being allowed back in to try and have class. I remember rumors going around about what would happen if the base was bombed or had a plane crash into it. My high school was maybe half a mile away from base so we'd be pretty screwed. Finally, things calmed down enough that we stopped receiving threats and classes, as well as our teenaged lives, went back to normal slowly.

Not even a year after 9/11, my same boyfriend, and now first love, was taking a family summer trip to visit his relatives - in Queens. I can remember being so scared of him flying, and to NYC no less! I had him call me when they got to his relatives house, then again as soon as he was home safe and sound. Of course nothing bad happened, but I had no idea what the world was like anymore. I was a 16 year old in a completely different world than the one I knew as a 15 year old.

I have noticed that, with the 10th, 11th, and 12th graders in my school that year, so many more decided to go into the military because of the attacks. It was already a popular career route for our hometown because of the air force base, but all the branches of military suddenly had lots of my peers joining the day they turned 18. I always figured I would end up marrying someone in the military because of my hometown, so I was prepared to feel their struggle with protecting our country for the rest of their lives. Obviously God had other plans for me in terms of my soulmate, but that never changed my attitude about the military.

I am so thankful for those who have served, are serving, and who will serve in the future. I am thankful to those who have sacrificed their home, their family and their sanity to protect me and the rest of America. I am thankful for the families of those who serve because they are just as involved in the fight as the ones on the front line. I am thankful for those who lost their lives. Not only those in the military, but those who were in the buildings that were destroyed, the emergency crews trying to save the ones they could, the pilots of the aircrafts that were hijacked as well as the passengers on those planes who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. I am thankful for all the sacrifices, whether they were intentional or not. Even without being personally involved, I can still feel more appreciation for the strength, courage, and hope that rose from the ashes of the destroyed buildings that day.

It makes me sad that things like this happen. That every generation seems to have some kind of life-changing even that alters the way the world works. That we all have a situation where someone asks "Where were you when ___________ happened?" and we have a very specific answer. All I hope for in the future, is for us to see God in the midst of tragedy so we can learn to work through it for a brighter future. That's all anyone can ever do. We can't stop it from happening, but we can control how we react to it. More than anything, I just want respect to be given to those who deserve it. Even if you think you have all the answers, that doesn't take away from the suffering people had that day. Respect is a very powerful thing.

Our gospel scripture in church this morning, which happens to be part of a calendar that was created decades ago, happened to be in Matthew, where Peter asks how many times he should forgive someone who sins against him. Jesus replied with "seven times seventy". He didn't mean literally 490 times, but he did mean an infinite number. It's easier for me to be forgiving and leave justice up to God because I didn't lose anyone or anything that day 10 years ago. My life is different and how I relate to things are different. However, I still feel like forgiveness is a big part of being a Christian. I hope that, if you have personally been affected by 9/11 and are struggling with forgiveness, that God will give you exactly what you need. He knows your heart and will take care of it and you.

As this wonderful song says, I'm not skilled to understand what God has willed or planned, but I do know that He is my Savior and He lives, loves, and reigns now and forever.

This turned out longer than I intended, but I felt like getting it out. If any of my words have upset or offended you, I do sincerely apologize. My intention was not to do either of those things. My sole purpose of posting was to reflect on my personal memory of 9/11 and my feelings thereafter. May we never truly forget.