~ Psalm 147:3
Today I tried to explain to Archer about what happened nine years ago on this day. As I told him in simplified, vague terms about what happened that day I realized that he can't understand and may never fully understand it. I don't think I even fully understand. Can any of us, really? Those who lost friends and family, yes. Me, a thousand miles away and knowing none of those 2,977 victims, no. I don't think so. What grieves me is thinking that to Archer and Shelly this will be a history lesson, a page in a book and that's it. I didn't tell Archer about the planes being hijacked because early tomorrow morning David is leaving on a plane to go to California. I didn't tell him about mothers and fathers being killed and more than 3,000 children being left without a parent. I didn't talk about the children who died. I didn't tell him about going home from work that day and seing the pictures on tv and crying for what had happened to our country.
How do we share our experiences, our history, with our children? How do we show them what a huge effect that one day had on our country's culture, mindset, history? Will they ever be able to understand that horrible day and how it changed us? Will they ever be able to relate to that strange feeling of seeing an airplane flying over our city after passenger planes were allowed to fly again? This is why historians write, why we value photographs and video and try to keep remembering, that our children might remember with us. But ultimately I wonder if anything other than our own experiences truly changes us.
As I watched a documentary with survivors' stories there was more news along the bottom of the screen with the tragedies that have happened around the world today. When, Lord, will you put an end to it? Thank you for your grace and love to our broken world. For loving us despite the things we do.
For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son...
~ John 3:16
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