Of Mothers and Sons

Wow. Our nation has experienced quite a chaotic week.

It has been a whirlwind of a week. The authorities released pictures of last Monday's Boston Marathon bombing suspects last Thursday afternoon to the public. In a span of about 24 hours there was a hold-up at a convenience store, another murder, a shootout resulting in the death of suspect #1, and a massive manhunt for supect #2. A whole major metropolitan area was on lock down. It all concluded with another shootout and the capture of 19 year old Dzhokhar Tsarnaev- alive.

The events of the Boston Marathon bombings have burrowed deep into my heart. Tragedies such as this really get to me. I know they affect everyone, but when these unthinkable events happen (Aurora, Virginia Tech, Sandy Hook, etc.) I go into a very dark place and am convinced that evil has won and that we are no longer safe anywhere. I feel much more grief and terror than what I think is normal for people. And if you involve a child in this tragedy, well I pretty much lose it. Seeing sweet, innocent Martin Richard's face broke my heart. Whenever they show a child victim's photo I immediately see my own son's face and a flood of heartache sets in.

I was glued to the TV on Friday. It felt like I was watching a movie, but I had that punched-in-the-gut feeling knowing it was all real and that there were real people and victims involved. The media outlets kept showing Dzhokhar's face over and over and over and over again.

I saw what everyone else saw. A monster. A murderer. A person who ruined people's lives. A person who tainted a joyous athletic occasion.

But after seeing his face over and over my motherly instincts kept creeping in, even though I desperately kept trying to push them away. I kept thinking about how young he looked. Just a punk kid fresh out into the world. A kid... just a kid. This monster who just took the life of an 8 year old little boy was once 8 years old himself. From what I understand Dzhokhar was just about 7 or 8 years old when he and his family sought asylum in the United States.

Reflecting on this tragedy makes me think of the many tragedies that have plagued our country in these last years. These monsters shown below, these instruments of evil, used to be innocent little children.

 

Did James Holmes run around and play Power Rangers and Ninja Turtles with his friends when he was younger? Did Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold jump for joy when they got that Super Nintendo for Christmas? These monsters were once kids who had the same dreams and hopes as we did when we were younger. They played the same games and read the same books as we did.

Each of these murders had mothers. Since I have become a mom my thoughts often drift to the mothers of these killers. How awful it must be... your own son, your flesh and blood, the babe you carried for 9 months, birthed, and comforted is a murderer. The one you rocked to sleep and whispered lullabies to... is a monster. The toddler you watched make block towers, who amazed you with their first sentences and songs, who colored big scribble pictures with crayons... is a terrorist. The child who fell down and scraped their knee and you swept them up in your arms and kissed their tears away... has taken life. 

We mothers of sons want our boys to grow into strong men. Into kind-hearted gentlemen who are leaders and protectors. We want them to be happy and successful in what they choose to do with their adult lives. We want them to take their God-given talents and do good things. We watch them as they grow up right before our eyes and pray we lead them on the right path. We don't picture our sons being murderers.

I can't pretend to know how it feels to have a son who has killed others. I can only imagine the horror and grief. You have lost your son either to him deciding to take his own life at the end of his massacre or to the prison system. You mourn the loss of your child at the same time being sickened that they have taken so many other innocent lives. Can you imagine the thoughts, regrets and images Sue Klebold, Dylan Klebold's mother must go through? After many years of silence she opened up about that fateful day.

In remembering that day in April, Sue Klebold explains the agonizing decision she had to make when she realized her son was one of the shooters. "I thought that if this was really happening and he survived, he would go into the criminal justice system and be executed, and I really couldn't bear to lose him twice. I gave the hardest prayer I ever made, that he would kill himself, because then at least I would know he wanted to die and wouldn't be left with all the questions I'd have if he got caught by a police bullet. Maybe I was right, but I've spent so many hours regretting that prayer: I wished for my son to kill himself and he did."

 "I had a sudden vision of what he might be doing. And so while every other mother in Littleton was praying that her child was safe, I had to pray that mine would die before he hurt anyone else." 

 When asked what she would say to her son if she could speak to him she said this:

"I would ask him to forgive me, for being his mother and never knowing what was going on inside his head, for not being able to help him, for not being the person he could confide in."

That sentence just breaks my heart. To feel like you failed your son, and in doing so failed so many other parents and children, those lives your son took.... I just cannot imagine. No one really wants to think about or sympathize with the murderer's family. Many want to place the blame on the family. Sometimes that's the case, many times it is not.

That brings me to the big question that has lingered in my head these past few days. At what point does the little innocent boy become a murderer? What causes such hatred and evil? We know some clues... mental illness, bullying, rage against authority, tough childhoods, family influences. But what causes it all to become so big and so burdensome that these boys lash out and take lives? Surely these kids don't dream of becoming killers. It just boggles my mind and I so desperately want to make sense out of it all. But you can't place evil into a nicely explained package.

I know these questions can't easily be answered. I'm no psychologist and I don't think even some psychologists can answer these questions. I have read up on some of these boys and quite frankly the way they think is bone-chilling and gives me nightmares. It's hard to imagine that these monsters were once little babies.

I've often thought about if any of these killers had any remorse, but the fact that they have behaved in such an evil way makes it difficult to pin any human sorrow on them. However, after Dzhokhar was captured and we learned that he spent all day hiding in a boat makes me stop to think about how, as a son and brother, these killers must think. Dzhokhar hid away like a scared little boy. He didn't have any bombs to go out in a blaze of glory. He had a gun, which he used to exchange gunfire with authorities, but why didn't he take his own life? He was injured from the shootout hours earlier that took the life of his brother. There was no getting out of this, so why didn't he take the coward's way out and end his life? (I am not saying he should have killed himself, just expressing my surprise since that seems to be the path many of these terrorist choose.) When the police were closing in why didn't he kill their hopes of getting him alive so they could get information out of him? I'm not trying to paint him as a remorseful person because judging by his alleged behavior right after the bombings he was not sorry since he went about daily life as if nothing had happened. But it makes me wonder how much of an influence his brother had on him and how much information he will give authorities.

What did Dzhokhar think about in that boat? Did he think about his brother? Surely as kids they wrestled around and played with Legos and G.I. Joes. Did he know that his brother was dead? Did he think about his mother and father? Did he think about the tears his family was going to shed because he and his brother were terrorists and killed and injured so many innocent people? Did he think of his friends who he used to hang out with? Did he think of his brother's wife and his 3 year old niece? Did he think about all the dreams he had as a little kid? Being free from the war and terrors of where he was born and living the American dream... becoming happy and successful. Possibly raising a family? Did he think of his victims? Surely he saw the pictures of Martin Richard, Krystle Cambell and Lingzi Lu before he and his brother went on the run. Did he think of how their lives were cut short and how their families' lives would never be the same? Did he realize that no matter what happened to him that his own life would be cut short, whether by dying in a boat or being imprisoned? Did he feel remorse that he had a choice in his future but his victims did not? All that he had was over now. Happy childhood memories... hugs from his mother, laughs with his brother, going to school, playing with friends, listening to music... all led to this moment. A terrorist cowering in a boat waiting for his life to end.

When the authorities closed in on him and after one brief volley of gunfire he just laid there. He showed his hands, lifted his shirt to show he was not wearing a suicide vest and just waited to be taken in. Was he ready to cooperate with officials? Does he regret his actions? Does he wish he could take that moment away when he went from innocent to monster?

The information coming in about the Tsarnaev brothers is coming in fast and full of stories about their rather bizarre family, their tribal and religious views, their past and possible motives for the bombings. There are so many unanswered questions.

It's disheartening to know that there is probably no end to these tragedies. We are all capable of evil and too many of us act on it. I am terrified of letting my kids out into the world knowing they could encounter a monster like Seung-Hui Cho or Timothy McVeigh. I watch my sons play together. I watch Joe build Lego houses and Sam gain more and more confidence to pull himself up. I know these years will fly by and soon they will be adults. I just pray that I have taught them to always love, even when hating is easier. I pray that I have taught them to be brave- to run into the smoke to rescue those who need help instead of running away. I pray I have taught them to be strong when life hands them difficulties. I pray that they glorify God in all they do and show others the goodness and beauty in life. I pray they become good men.

I pray that my sons, these happy, innocent faces, will make this world a better place.

 

No Words

The horrors of the school shooting in Connecticut have haunted me since Friday. I can avoid the news all I want, but the faces of those innocent children still pop in my head right before I go to sleep.

I've watched a few news clips online of mothers and fathers who have lost a child so tragically at Sandy Hook. I have no words.

I really don't have any words. People are talking and debating gun control, politics and mental illness. I don't even feel like I have anything to contribute to any conversation. All I can do is just look at my boys and thank God they are warm and safe and happy.

Thankfully the internet is full of loving, smart and amazing women. They write the words I can't find. They write the words that are simple. They write the words that everybody needs to hear.

Please, if you have time, read this powerful post by my dear friend Sarah.

Then hop over to Dwija's to read her simple and loving post.

Tomorrow I plan on going to confession. It's a confession service where I won't have to worry about rushing through because the priest has to celebrate Mass afterward. I'm going to do a lot of soul searching and examination of conscience and really get my soul shiny clean. Then I am going to refocus on my life. Stop being mopey. Stop being lazy in my spiritual life and vocation.

Saddened and Scared

Last night Ryan and his brother Conor left to go see The Dark Knight Rises. They were so excited, practically pacing the floors waiting to leave for the theater. They have loved everything and anything about Batman since they were little boys. I was excited for them and maybe even a little jealous that I could not go along.

Around 3:30 a.m. or so Ryan comes walking in our bedroom. There was barely any light, but I could see his brilliant, wide smile. "How was it?" I asked. "It was freaking awesome!!!" the big toothy grin answered. It was like he was on an adrenaline high. I smiled and fell back asleep, happy that he and his brother had a good time and watched a great movie.

But how many wives, mothers, and girlfriends woke up this morning and their loved one never came home? Did they ever imagine that something as fun and innocent as going to a midnight showing of a movie could result in their loved one's untimely death? They went to bed thinking they would wake up to their beloved safe and warm in their bed.

I woke up this morning and saw the news of the shootings at a movie theater in Aurora, CO. How easily that could have been Kansas City. It could have been my husband or brother in law that was injured or killed. It makes me sick to my stomach.

I have always had a great fear of mass shootings. I was petrified to go to class the week the Virginia Tech shooting massacre occured. I barely went to class that week. When I finally felt comfortable to go I would spent the classtime thinking of frightening scenerios and how I could escape. A year later one of my good friends was shot while at work. One of his co-workers' nutso ex-boyfriend came in looking to kill her. She got away, but my friend and his boss were shot. Thanks be to God they both survived, but it was a very scary ordeal that involved a lot of hospital and recovery time.

Since then there have been shootings in malls, in schools, political events, pretty much any public place. Sometimes when I'm shopping I get paranoid when I see that suspicious looking guy with the backpack or the kid leaning against a wall all by himself. I was planning on going to see The Dark Knight Rises tonight, but now I am not so sure. How can I enjoy it?

I'm getting sick of all these shootings and massacres. Is it really the international terrorists we need to worry about? What in the heck is wrong with these young people? Where are they getting these guns? Where are they getting these sick ideas to step into a movie theater dressed in a bullet-proof vest, wear a gas mask, detonate a smoke bomb, and shoot people? Did you know that one of those injured was a 3 month old? The baby is fine and safe with their parents, but seriously? An infant could have died at a movie theater? That's eff'd up. The whole thing is eff'd up. I find it ironic that the shooting occurred at a Batman movie. This crime sounds like something Bane or The Joker would take joy in committing. Instead, it was an ordinary human being. The sad thing is we have no real-life Batman to swoop in and take this criminal out before he can do any harm.

There are so many problems in the world. Childhood obesity, no jobs, you name it. Not to downplay any of these, but I think it is more important to focus on raising our children up morally and right instead of making sure they don't eat too many processed foods.

I don't want to live in a world where I am scared to go to the mall or theater or ball game because I'm afraid my husband or I will get shot. I don't want to live in a world where I am afraid to send my child to school because some classmate of theirs wants to kill as many people as he can before he takes his own life.

Why does this seem to be the trend now- the shootings, the bombings? Is it our culture? Our parenting strageties? Social media? Video games and TV? Why do some people feel the only way to express their anger or sadness is to take the lives of others? I don't get it. I suppose we will never understand evil in the world.

Is there anything we can do to stop these hateful crimes? Is there any solution?

I am 39 weeks pregant today and I wonder what kind of world I am bringing my babies into. Can I raise them to make a difference in this world? To be good people? What if I fail?

My heart and prayers go out to all the victims and families of the Aurora theater shootings. I have big respect for Warner Bros. for canceling their Dark Knight Rises events in Paris tonight out of respect for those who have died. My husband came home last night and cuddled with our son and me. Cherish those moments. Cherish life. You never know what tomorrow can bring.     

Crazy, crazy, crazy weekend

Wow. What a crazy weekend.

Yesterday morning my mom called to tell me that my Aunt Joy had suffered a heart attack and was in critical condition. She and my Uncle Alan live in Carthage, MO. (They lost their home last spring in the Joplin tornado. On Joy's birthday, no less!) Thank God her daughter Barb was there because she gave Joy CPR and kept her alive until the paramedics got there. If it weren't for her, who knows what would have happened. All we really knew at that point was that she was life flighted to a hospital in Springfield and it didn't look good.

My mom knew she was eventually going to make the 5 hour drive south so she could be there to comfort her brother. She was waiting around to hear from Alan. I knew that I wanted to go to support my uncle and also my mom, but was worried how Joe would deal with being waaaay out of his element. Thankfully my husband was generous and kind enough to tag along so he could help with Joe and be there to support us all.

We had about 2 hours before mom would be there to pick us up. In that time Joe decided to do something to take my mind off what was happening to my Aunt Joy.

We were letting Joe run around to blow off some steam before we left. He went over to the changing table. Then I heard Ryan yell, "NO! NO!" This wasn't the normal "No, no" that we usually yell. This was more serious. I ran over just in time to see Joe take yet another swig of baby oil. A couple days ago I had to use it to get some stubborn sticky poo off Joe's bum. I rarely ever use it and was in a hurry to get Joe diapered since he is so wriggly when I change his diaper, so I didn't put the lid on all the way.

I grabbed the bottle and Joe practically skipped away in glee with glistening baby oil all over his mouth. Of course the bottle said "DO NOT DRINK." Even though Joe seemed just fine, I wanted to call poison control just to be on the safe side. The nurse who answered was extremely nice. She first asked if Joe had choked or coughed when he first drank the baby oil. He didn't- he actually seemed to enjoy it! She said that was good because the biggest risk with drinking baby oil was choking and aspirating. She said the next problem, which wasn't a concern, was that baby oil is a laxative, so be prepared for some loose stools. She said to keep an eye on him for an hour and give him some bread and small amounts of milk. As I was talking to her on the phone he was running amok with a hat that was too small for his head on and blabbering and carrying on, so i wasn't too worried. She called back in an hour and since he was still being a crazy man and hadn't vomited she gave him an all clear.

I knew the day would come when I had to call poison control. Hopefully it will be the last! I felt so completely awful that it was my fault he gulped down the baby oil. Thank God he was just fine. Motherhood: you're always learning!

My mom picked us up later that afternoon. We got more news on Joy. The doctors were putting her through a process called therapeutic hypothermia. They very slowly cool her blood down. Once her blood temp got to 33.0 Celsius then she stays in that state for 24 hours. This is to reduce swelling in the brain due to the trauma of her heart attack. This is essentially to protect her body from damage from the heart attack. After 24 hours of being at 33.0 degrees they would slowly bring her temperature up, bring her out of sedation and unhook her from all the machines. There is a 50% chance she will never wake up.

When we finally got to Springfield we could tell that my Uncle Alan was so happy to see us. We sat in the waiting room with him and Barb while Joe entertained the whole crowd waiting in there. Later on that evening their son Todd and his wife came.

We finally got to see Joy during the very strict visiting hours. It was a very difficult sight to see. She was put in a paralyzing sedation, so she had to be on a breathing machine. She had numerous other tubes and IV's hooked up to her. She's always been so full of life. Always with a smile. It was very hard to see her in that state.

We left the hospital around 8:30 and went to our hotel. We all sat around and talked. It was so hard to see Alan so heartbroken and worried. It killed me to see the tears welling up in his eyes. I wish I could have taken the pain away from him.

Today we went to Mass and then back to the hospital. At around 9:00 last night she finally reached the 33.0 degrees. So tonight at 9:00 (in about 10 minutes from when I am writing this) they will start raising her temp. Sometime this coming morning we should know if this relatively new procedure will work. We don't know the answers to those looming questions of what if she doesn't wake up or what will she be like if she does?

It's a nervous waiting game and of course my family would appreciate any prayers you can send up to the heavens.

Joy has suffered so much these past two years. Her health has declined rapidly. She was actually supposed to have surgery last Wednesday to remove a benign tumor on her spine, but it was postponed due to a lack of equipment. If her heart was in this bad of shape who knows what could have happened during surgery. What hurts my Uncle Alan the most is how much suffering she has gone through when all she has ever done is love and serve others. The priest who came to annoint her told my Uncle that the reason she suffers so much is because she CHOOSES to suffer with the crucified Savior. She chooses this path. Someday when her children, grandchildren and numerous nieces and nephews go to heaven they will see how much suffering they were spared in their life because Aunt Joy prayed so fervently for them and took on their suffering. How amazing is that?

I am so thankful for my family. I am so blessed with such a loving and close family that will come together in times of happiness and sadness. I am so thankful for medical technology. This therapy could save her neurological function. It could save her life. And then we can have many more years of joy with our dear Aunt Joy.

Thank you for the prayers.

Be Kind. Be Compassionate.

This morning I woke up to learn my favorite weatherman, Don Harman from Fox 4 News, had died. I have watched Don Harmon since I was a freshman in high school. Mr. Harman was hilarious and wacky. He had such a good camaraderie with the anchors of the morning show. The light-hearted, fun-loving atmosphere he created made me want to watch the news in the morning because it wasn't all about murders, scams, and car accidents.

The station was keeping tight-lipped about the situation because not all of his family members had been notified. I kept wondering what it was that claimed his life. Had he been in a car accident that morning on the way to work? Perhaps he suffered a heart attack. When I got on the internet the rumor was swirling around- suicide. Suicide??! How on earth could this man who was so funny, so fun-loving, and knew he was adored by many in Kansas City kill himself? This man who was only 41 years old, with a wife and a young daughter... what was going on inside his head that made him feel like he was beyond help? What was going on inside his head to make him feel that his life wasn't worth living?

I don't know why his death affects me so. I had never met him. I feel a heaviness in my heart, not just because Mr. Harman's death, but just because I am sometimes overwhelmed at what seems like an enormous amount of darkness and sadness in this world.



Don Harman's suicide makes me realize that you never really know what is going on in a person's life. He appeared so confident and happy, but that was apparently a mask. How many people do we encounter everyday that are on the verge of suicide or having a mental break down?

I saw on the news today that the number one reason people dislike the holiday season is because they are "forced" to be nice to others; others meaning mostly their family and friends that they would rather not be nice to.

What is wrong with being nice? What is wrong with being kind? I suppose if someone is nice as opposed to being strong-willed they are considered weak. They are considered fluff compared to a stone.

What is wrong with keeping our mouths shut when we want to say mean and hurtful things? We take delight in saying mean things because it's funny and a thrill to demean someone.

It is easy to lose our patience. It is easy for us to snap. The holiday is a stressful time, but we need to remember that we are not the only person on this planet. There are others out there that are just as stressed, if not more. Our feelings, wants, desires are not the only feelings out there.

Instead of snapping at a cashier to get the line moving faster why don't you take a second and look at her name tag. Yes, she is a person who has a name, not just a corporate tool that scans your merchandise and takes your money. She is a person who has worries and fears and joy and excitement. She is a person who possibly is a single mother and this is the only job she could find to support her two children. Instead of complaining to her, or even cutting her off and being short with her when she tries to make conversation, how about you compliment her earrings. Tell her thank you for what she does. Tell her how much you admire her for working in the retail business during the holiday season. Tell her Merry Christmas.

Instead of throwing a fit that you didn't get fries with your extra value meal why don't you take a second to remember that the gentleman who took your order doesn't have it out for you to make sure you don't have your fries. People make mistakes. People get distracted. Sure, there are the occasional lazy-bones people out there that don't put in the effort to make sure your order is correct, but have a little more faith in people. Maybe this kid who has taken hundreds of food orders that day is tired because he had to wake up extra early to take his mother to chemotherapy and has two finals to study for when he gets home. Maybe he is distracted for good reason.

There are some things in life that are good cause for us to speak up and say something. Voicing our concerns about some things in life is necessary. But let us keep our priorities straight. Being mean to the teen who bags our groceries for accidentally dropping the bottle of spaghetti sauce isn't necessary.

We live in a world where rudeness and hostility rule, a teenage girl can be hailed as a free-speech hero for making disrespectful comments to an adult (who happens to be the governor of Kansas) and where people can tear each other apart while hiding behind a computer screen. I stay away from comboxes where people can easily accuse the authors of being bad parents, bad Catholics, and destined for hell because they believe in XYZ.



The world can't be all lollypops and sparkly unicorn glitter. There are people out there who are sarcastic and cynical. God made us all different and it's good to have a little spice and crunch in our lives. But no matter what our disposition is, we must be careful of our words. We must be careful of our actions.

Our words and actions can make or break someone's day. Our words and actions represent more than just ourselves. They represent our parents, our church, our country. It is not all about me, me, me.

I see the darkness of life and the sadness that seems to overshadow everything. I sometimes wonder what kind of world I have brought my child into. I hope to raise my son and future children to bring LIGHT to the world instead of darkness.

I have a different take on Advent this year. I wait for the coming of our Savior. I see the darkness of our world and I know that Christ has defeated it and has brought light to our world. He does it every single day.

There is good in this world. There is such incredible good in this world that it busts through the darkness of sadness and tragedy. God helps us to become that light that crashes through. It can begin with us.


May God bless the soul of Don Harman and bring comfort and peace to his family during this tragic time. May he rest in peace.



May God bless all those who are affected by suicide.



May God bless those who are sad and lonely this holiday season.

Where were you?

My junior year school photo

When I was young I remember hearing older people comment on how they will never forget where they were when they heard Pearl Harbor was attacked or when President Kennedy was assassinated. I never thought I’d have an experience like that.

My experience, like the rest of yours, was 9-11.

I was a junior at Tarkio High School. My first hour class was band. We were in the midst of marching band season and I was in the color guard. While the rest of the band was in the band room learning the marching music, we color guard girls practiced in the gym. I remember we were just sitting around. We were just getting there so we hadn’t started our practicing yet. I remember one of the “S” twins coming in and saying that one of the World Trade Center buildings had been bombed. My first reaction was “Yikes…” but since I didn’t know the extent of the damage I wasn’t really too concerned.

That all changed in the next few minutes as the hallways of T.H.S started buzzing with activity. Something more was going on. I remember teachers going around and the words “We’ve been attacked” being said and rushing up to the library- one of the few rooms in our school that had cable TV.

The library was jammed full of students and thankfully the TV footage was projected onto a huge screen so we were able to see what was going on. We all looked in shock at one of the World Trade Center towers burning. A plane had done this. Was this an accident? What was going on? It was all so devastating and confusing.

Pretty soon we all knew that this wasn’t just a random, horrible accident. We watched as another plane slammed into the tower. We watched as a plane crashed into the Pentagon. We watched as yet another plane crashed a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

Horror and panic set in. I remember my English teacher saying after the plane crashed into the Pentagon “We are going to war. You don’t mess with the Pentagon.” My thoughts had been on the boy I was dating at the time. He had graduated high school in the spring before and was far away at college. We had an innocent, young high school love that ran deep, and my fear was that he would be sent to fight those who attacked us. He had enlisted in the Air Force after he graduated from high school; long before any of this had happened. “Why, why, WHY did you decide to enlist?!” I kept mentally yelling at him while I was sitting there watching the attacks. We had no cell phones back then to text each other.

There was no way to get a hold of my mom. While watching the tragedy unfold I had a mental “I want my mommy” moment. My brother was far away in Kansas City. He is a police officer there. Seeing the officers on TV running around with blood on their hands and bravery on their face made me sick to my stomach. I kept seeing my big brother’s face on these police officers. I knew that these attacks were half a country away and my family and boyfriend were safe, but this was a moment where I just wanted to know where everybody I loved was at and if they were safe. I was thankful to be around my friends and teachers, but still yearned for more loved ones around me.

What was happening to our world? Attacks like this weren’t supposed to happen in AMERICA. My young classmates and I watched the news footage of the burning towers. We saw papers flying out of the windows of the Trade Center. We saw people running, crying, screaming. We saw sirens, smoke and dust. Would these horrors make their way to the safe, sleepy Midwest?

To our horror we saw the towers crumble. These massive, strong towers crumbling like they were nothing. All those people.. those innocent people. We couldn’t believe our eyes when we saw that death and destruction. My classmates and I matured in that library. Life wasn’t just worrying about a math test or striving to do our best at track practice. Life was more than getting ready for your driver’s test or making sure you had the right dress for homecoming. We learned in that hour or so that life was much, much more than what we thought it was.

We spent the rest of the day in a sort of perpetual study hall. We went to our classes, but nothing was taught. No work was done. We just all talked a lot about what we saw and how we were feeling. I remember being emotionally spent and learning there was still golf practice that afternoon after school. I remember thinking that our coach was so unfair, but I realize now that she knew we needed some sort of structure and normalcy. While walking the golf course my team mates and I looked up in the air, on this beautiful, clear fall afternoon, and saw no planes zigzagging the sky. It was a chilling, eerie feeling.

I remember driving home and seeing the gas station packed with people trying to get gas. The price was getting ready to go up to 3 or 4 bucks a gallon. That craziness went away after a few hours when our nation was assured that there would be no gas shortage.

I came home in a very foul mood. I was still mad that I had to go to golf practice when I wanted so desperately to call my boyfriend. My mom was expecting me to come home sad and wanting to hug her. I came home pissy, ranting and went straight away to call my boyfriend. (Ahh, how funny the emotions are of a teenage girl.) Eventually I came around and was able to spend quality time with my mom. I didn’t worry about homework that night. We watched the news coverage and thanked God we were safe.

I will always remember that day. It seemed so surreal. As we all know that day has forever changed our lives. Patriotism boomed the following months. Our homecoming theme was Patriotic. Our homecoming dance photo backdrop was an American flag. The yearbook theme for that year was All American.

Our fall homecoming was a couple weeks after the attacks.

My, how life has changed for our country these past 10 years. I have never flown before but my husband says that security before 9-11 and after are unbelievably different. We are in wars over this. I still consider my old high school boyfriend a friend and he has served our country overseas. I’ve had friends serve overseas. Ryan’s cousin was in Iraq. Everywhere you go you hear of someone who knows someone who is fighting for our freedom. Everywhere you go you hear of a young life cut short while fighting overseas.

Ten years is a long time. I’ve changed and grown so much. In some ways this 10 year anniversary of 9-11 makes me more sad then when it actually happened. I think that day and the months following 9-11 I was in shock. Now that I have gotten older I see that there is evil everywhere. I’m also more sad when thinking about 9-11 because I have a husband and a child. I cannot imagine losing my husband or child in a manner such as this. Something as routine as going into work or taking a flight ended up being the last day of their lives. How many spouses got into a fight that morning and parted ways mad at each other and one of them was killed in one of the planes? How many mothers and fathers were in a rush to get somewhere and didn’t kiss their baby goodbye and the child perished in one of the towers? I can’t fathom it and even writing those words make me sick with grief. The lesson I have learned is to never take for granted those you love.

My heart will be heavy this Sunday. However, it is my father-in-law’s birthday. I’m sure it’s not easy to share your birthday with such a day filled with sadness, but he is not the only person who was born on September 11. Thousands and thousands and thousands of babies have been born on this date since the attacks happened. Life goes on. We learn to see the beauty in life. We come to understand that life is precious. We learn that it isn’t the things in life that make us happy, it is that which you cannot buy and our loved ones.

I am proud of our country, especially the brave men and women of the military that sacrifice their well-being and their own lives to protect us. I am proud that we have been able to stand up and dust ourselves off from this tragedy. Life isn’t the same anymore, but I pray that we all can learn from this tragedy and live. Live.. truly live in a way that helps us to be better people, help those around us, and to be able to enjoy the eternal glory of God the Father in Paradise.

Praying for the victims of September 11th and their families.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let the perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace.
Amen.

Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

Isaiah 40:18-31

Help for Joplin

There are so many ways you can help the victims of the Joplin tornado. Here is one of them: Visit Bigger Picture Blogs and join in the Help for Joplin Auction. If you can, please participate or at least spread the word that this event is going on.

Uncle Alan and Aunt Joy are doing well. They are beyond thankful for all the help they have received. When they are at the remains of their house there are people constantly going by asking if they need water, food, chainsaws, shovels, pretty much anything they need.

There are still plenty of others that need help, so please, visit Bigger Picture blogs to see what you can do!

A Little Bit of the End of the World in Joplin, MO

If you are a Facebook friend of mine, you are probably aware that last night was a little nerve wracking for my family and me. My 70-year old Uncle Alan and Aunt Joy, their daughter Barb, and her two sons were caught up in the devastating tornado that ripped through Joplin, MO.

Yesterday afternoon Ryan, Joe and I left to go to my nephew’s graduation party. As we were leaving we caught sight of the news where the town we just moved from, Waverly, was in a tornado warning. We were scared for our friends back there and prayed no one would get hurt and hoped there wasn’t significant damage.

While at the party I had a missed call from my mom and a voicemail. I figured she was just calling to chat so I didn’t bother calling her until we were getting into the car to leave. When she answered her voice was rattled with concern. “You need to turn on The Weather Channel,” she said. I figured Waverly was hit pretty badly, but she informed me that it was Joplin that that been hit. I thought that maybe some trees had been destroyed and some structural damage had occurred, but when mom said, “Alan and Joy are trapped in their house. Their house is gone.” I knew this was much more serious.

My mom had been watching the news when she saw the breaking news announcement that Joplin had been hit by a tornado. She called Alan and miraculously she got through on his cell phone. He had gotten his family into the hallway (they have no basement.) Everyone was OK, but very shaken up. If they had been in their living room they would have been killed. Thankfully my Uncle Steve lives in a town near Joplin and he went right away to try and dig Alan and Joy out.

When we got home from the party I immediately turned on The Weather Channel and what I saw made me sick to my stomach. Total devastation. Cars on top of cars. Whole neighborhoods leveled. Even their hospital had taken a direct hit. The newscaster was visibly shaken and broke down numerous times because he had witnessed firsthand many people with injuries and dead bodies lying around. I was thankful that my family was accounted for, but I wasn’t going to rest easy until I knew my family was out of the house safely.

Thank God for Facebook. My family has a private group on there so we were able to keep each other updated. Our friends also offered their prayers and support.

A couple of hours later we got news from Uncle Steve that everyone was out of the house. My Aunt Joy had back surgery a couple months ago so her mobility is severely limited. It took them awhile to get her out. They are now safe with a roof over their head at my Uncle Steve’s home.

It’s crazy to think that your life can change in the blink of an eye. I thank the Lord that he protected my family and got them to safety. I am keeping the people of Joplin in my prayers as they mourn, search for loved ones and rebuild.

These are pictures my Uncle Steve took of the devastation surrounding my Uncle Alan’s home.

You can see more photos here.