Memories

There are a handful of moments in life that are preserved with crystalline clarity in the minds of most people. Some are deeply personal. Some are joyous. Some are tragic. Some are just so overwhelming that they can never be fully comprehended.

Other than those deeply personal moments, there are only two occasions that I remember with that astounding clarity, as if they happened only yesterday. And actually, what is preserved is NOT the memories of those moments, but the emotions that accompanied them. The emotions are still there, strong and raw, even though the details of the days have grown cloudy.

One was the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated (I was in first grade). The other is September 11, 2001.

We were living in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. We didn't have email or a connection to the Internet. We didn't have cable TV or a satellite dish. I don't remember if we had cell phones yet. We didn't have a phone line in our house (couldn't get one, unless you knew someone in the government, or were willing to pay bribes and do it illegally).

The way we found out was that my husband had taken our outgoing mail to the dropoff point (it was flown out and in by cargo plane twice a week), and while there, he'd been told that a plane had apparently flown into one of the World Trade buildings.

At that point, we didn't know anything. Was it an accident? What was happening??

I remember looking into my husband's eyes, and him staring back into mine, and neither of us knowing what to say or do... neither of us knowing anything. Helpless. Powerless. Even to know what was going on. What was happening to the world? Our world. All we had to rely on was what other people were reporting to us, in bits and pieces throughout the morning.

After we heard that the second plane had hit, and it was obvious that this was some kind of planned attack, I went to bed and went to sleep. I did the same thing when I got the news that my maternal grandfather had died. I think my mind just shut down, and refused to deal at all with what was happening.

My husband came in later and woke me up to tell me that he'd turned on the TV, and on the news (in French) they were playing footage showing people jumping from what remained of the buildings, rather than choosing to die in the fires. I just looked at him, hating him for telling me this somehow even more horrible news, not quite believing its veracity. Then, I put the pillow over my head and tried to go back to sleep.

But I couldn't. I couldn't shut out the world and the truth and pretend that what was happening wasn't real, and I couldn't do a damn thing to change it or make a difference in any way whatsoever.

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I'm grateful that the world, that life, doesn't get stuck in one moment in time. That it goes on. That it can and usually does get better. I'm grateful that our country not only survived nine-eleven, but has shown incredible strength and determination in the wake of that day's events, and that we as a people have emerged with a new awareness of how precious life and love are.

I'm grateful that I don't have to be stuck in time, in circumstances, in life as it is. That I can make choices to make my life better. I'm grateful that God is there and that he cares, and that I can ask him for help to grow. To become stronger. To rebuild. To recover.

I'm grateful for today.