Speaking of feeling helpless

When I was a little child in the foothills of West Virginia, I’d look up in the sky in total awe of the silver bullets flying overhead. Wondering when or if I would ever be in one of those, I kept swinging.

Eight years ago, when the world stopped turning, I remember walking out and looking up in the same sky. It was weird not seeing one plane. It was eerily quiet. It was very sad. I have never felt more helpless. I wanted to go to New York. I wanted to help people, but my responsibilities were to my family here. So I prayed.

I remember it all like it just happened, and I am truly shocked at how easily people have forgotten. We were one nation that day. We were Americans. We weren’t black, white or Mexican. We were red, white & blue. We were all in shock, and I don’t remember any arguing over speeches in school or health care plans. We all wanted the people who were responsible to pay for what they had done. I just knew that day everything would change. I just knew we wouldn’t ever be the same. But somehow over time, we all fell back into our own little worlds — even more so now than 2 years ago when I wrote this.

originally published September 11, 2007

I was in the car. I had just dropped off my 2-year old daughter at daycare and was heading back home. I heard the news on the radio and I couldn’t believe my ears. I started praying for those people, thinking it was just an accident. I got home and turned the tv on. I watched as the second plane hit. It was such a horrible feeling of helplessness. I called my husband at work. “Should I go pick up Doodle from daycare?”

“Why?” he answered, “she’s just as safe there as she would be at home.”

During that horrible time, it really did seem like the world stopped turning. Life would surely not be normal again. I worried about my daughter. What kind of world have we brought her into? An imperfect world — a world full of mean people. About 2 months later, my husband was scheduled to fly to Rochester, NY for work. He didn’t want to fly. His stomach was torn up. He was heaving. He was home packing and planning on driving all the way up there. I had been praying for him (among all the other people I was praying for) and felt a peace about him going on this trip. I asked him if I could pray with him which is very out of character for me. We knelt beside the bed. I took his hand. “Lord, I know you have wonderful plans for us. If now is the time you want to take Duck to heaven, then please be with me and Doodle. But Lord, I don’t think it’s his time. Please keep him safe on his trip up there. Calm his upset stomach so he doesn’t get sick. Protect him. Be with him. Make him strong.”

When I finished praying, he hugged me tight. “Thank you,” he said. “My stomach was completely calm the second you prayed for that.” Six years later, we’re celebrating our 11th wedding anniversary next month. Doodle just turned 8 and is doing great in 3rd grade. I never thought life would return to “normal,” but it seems to have been really easy for many people to just block out that point in history and move on. We seemed to be one nation then. Now, I’m not even sure what nation this is. One thing I am sure of, my God is the same yesterday as today as He will be tomorrow. So while the world changes around me, I look to Him for strength to get me through — or bring me home — His will be done.

Pray for our leadership. Pray for our country. Pray for our soldiers. Whether you think we should be over there or not, the fact remains they are there and need our prayers.