Blog-land is suffering here OOG,
it's the baby's fault.
But I have to have priorities - like food.
So here is a re-post of last year's 9-11 blog.
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Saturday, September 11, 2010
September 11th
I recently read a book by Karen Kingsbury called, "One Tuesday Morning".
It is a book about September 11th with fictional characters, but of course, the storyline and the events that take place bring tears to your eyes.
Each generation of humanity has a life changing event that can take them back in time instantly, without thinking, to exactly where they were when it occurred.
I remember my mom talking about where she was when JFK was shot.
My grandmother knows where she was when Pearl Harbor was attacked.
And I know where I was on September 11th 2001.
We lived in Port Hueneme, California and Zion was just a tiny little guy.
Barely a month old.
Isaac was 19 months.
Michael was 2 months past his 4th birthday.
Mike was in the shower getting ready for work.
News reports were still speculating that the crash was some sort of accident.
I went back to the bedroom and told Mike.
When I returned to the TV, I saw this.
Reports began to change.
Speculations were being made.
The feelings of terror begin to wrestle with the idea that this can't be possible.
Can it?
For the next 30 minutes, I sat numb on the couch - watching.
Then the Pentagon was hit.
The emotions involved with some level of denial start to fade.
I felt sick.
Great friends from our first tour in Port Hueneme, the Medveds, are now stationed at the Pentagon.
Of course, the phone lines are jammed and every effort
to call Maria and check on Marko are met with that annoying message that, "your call can not be completed as dialed"
The rest of the day turned into a blurr.
The rest of the week was spent on base.
There was no real reason to travel off base, and I didn't want to.
That added bit of security somehow made me feel better.
I can't even remember how long it was before I heard from Maria that Marko was not in the Pentagon
that morning.
Personal relief was still bittersweet, as people they knew lost their life.
The final death count was almost 3000.
Images of hope begin to replace the images of destruction.
The first time we left the base was as a family.
We went to church.
We placed more value on the little things.
We held our babies closer.
We called family just to say, "I love you"
Instead of getting caught up in the busy weekend hussle and bussle......
We should do those things again.
It is a book about September 11th with fictional characters, but of course, the storyline and the events that take place bring tears to your eyes.
Each generation of humanity has a life changing event that can take them back in time instantly, without thinking, to exactly where they were when it occurred.
I remember my mom talking about where she was when JFK was shot.
My grandmother knows where she was when Pearl Harbor was attacked.
And I know where I was on September 11th 2001.
We lived in Port Hueneme, California and Zion was just a tiny little guy.
Barely a month old.
Isaac was 19 months.
Michael was 2 months past his 4th birthday.
Mike was in the shower getting ready for work.
I padded into the living room and turned on the TV.
At that time, I liked to start my mornings with the "Today Show"
Of course, I couldn't have avoided what was on every channel.
It was a few minutes before 6am.
I went back to the bedroom and told Mike.
Reports began to change.
Speculations were being made.
The feelings of terror begin to wrestle with the idea that this can't be possible.
Can it?
For the next 30 minutes, I sat numb on the couch - watching.
The emotions involved with some level of denial start to fade.
I felt sick.
Great friends from our first tour in Port Hueneme, the Medveds, are now stationed at the Pentagon.
Of course, the phone lines are jammed and every effort
to call Maria and check on Marko are met with that annoying message that, "your call can not be completed as dialed"
The rest of the day turned into a blurr.
The rest of the week was spent on base.
There was no real reason to travel off base, and I didn't want to.
That added bit of security somehow made me feel better.
I can't even remember how long it was before I heard from Maria that Marko was not in the Pentagon
that morning.
Personal relief was still bittersweet, as people they knew lost their life.
Images of hope begin to replace the images of destruction.
The first time we left the base was as a family.
We went to church.
We placed more value on the little things.
We held our babies closer.
We called family just to say, "I love you"
Instead of getting caught up in the busy weekend hussle and bussle......
We should do those things again.
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