Eight years ago tonight, I laid my head down in the guest bedroom of my great-grandma's house, completely unaware of the horror that would plague the next day. When I woke that morning, I was speechless at what I saw on the news. The severity of the September 11 attacks was not yet apparent. The first tower had been struck by a seemingly accidental plane and I watched on live TV as another plane hit the second Twin Tower. My thoughts immediately turned to my mom, grandma and brother who were in Chicago on business and supposed to travel home that afternoon.
The chaos and confusion of that day was nearly unmanageable to my ten-year-old-self. Not knowing when I would again see my family tore at the depths of me. Tear-stained pillows and hours on my knees can testify to that. It was several days before I got to see my family again, and it was the happiest reunion of my life. Never before had I had so much appreciation for the day-to-day things too often taken for granted. To be standing in my grandma's kitchen surrounded by my loved ones was all I needed that day.
Tonight, I reflect back on that dark day. I ponder the countless lives lost and I turn my head to my Father in Heaven and thank him for my family and loved ones and for their health and safety. I thank Him for the veterans of this nation and for those protecting its sanctity today. I thank Him for the opportunity to live in one of the most prosperous nations on Earth and I thank him for all of those who have made these blessings possible.
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