Ten years ago, our family lived in Gilbert, AZ, my son was 2 1/2, and I was so excited to find out that we were expecting our 2nd baby.  My husband was working a job he didn't like while applying for medical school, and our little family was sort of in an unsettling phase with some uncertainty about our future.  My happy days were filled with sunshine, playing with my little boy, and taking care of our first real house that we had recently purchased.  I LOVED that little house!!!

On September 11th, I remember getting up early with Brandon, making him breakfast, sending him off to work, and getting on with my morning with our little boy.  I was doing all of those mom things like cleaning the kitchen, switching out the laundry, and making sure my quiet, self-entertaining little boy was fine.  (he was the EASIEST kid we ever had...so mellow and easy-going)  Brandon called me during his morning commute after listening to the radio and told me to go turn on the TV because some big news was happening in New York.  I turned on the Today Show (back when I didn't utterly despise it) and saw the horror unfolding.  We were 3 hours behind New York, so by the time I tuned in at 6:30ish a.m., it was 9:30ish over there, and although the 2 towers had been struck, we didn't know anything about the Pentagon and the Pennsylvania Flight 93 yet.  Moment by moment was slowly unfolding on the news and I couldn't understand or believe what was happening.  A news correspondant, who had an office at the Pentagon, was talking live when all of a sudden there was this explosion and shaking of the screen.  He wasn't sure what just happened, but they thought it was some sort of bomb.

I sat on my brown sectional in the living room, with morning sunlight streaming through the large windows, completely silent and sad, watching.  I hugged my little boy when he came into the room, and sat him on my lap, grateful that he didn't have any idea what was going on.  I thought about my unborn child - and counted my blessings.

Ten years ago today, on September 12th, I couldn't get to the news fast enough to see more of what was going on.  The stories poured out; the events unfolded; the streets of New York were vacant and eerie; there were people looking for loved ones; message boards on the streets of New York were plastered with messages and photos.  I couldn't tear myself away from the news for DAYS.  There was so much talk of prayer, of God, and of uniting together.  This tragedy brought us to our knees in prayer, and though I'm not glad it happened, I'm glad that as a country, we prayed.

God Bless America.


jlk said...

I love how together we felt in the weeks and months following the tragedy. I wish we could somehow get back to that.

SUPAHMAMA! said...

Goosebumps. Amazing post! The power of prayer is phenomenal.