It's been raining. Dark and dreary this weekend from the remnants of Hannah, and it's still raining now. There are challenges in life that can rip you apart, stones in the heart that never dissolve.
This is a sad week for our country, the 7th anniversary of 9/11. I remember that day so clearly, as I'm sure almost all Americans do. My kids were in kindergarten and 3rd grade at the time, and I went to the school about 11 to pick them up. My husband was working in Washington, although he'd been able to slip in a 10 second call after the Pentagon that he was OK.
I remember coming home, watching the chaos on TV. I remember seeing only one of the World Trade Center buildings standing, and as I watched it collapsed into rubble, spewing a great black cloud so that everything was blackened. My children knew what had happened but didn't understand, and they played quietly outside. Such a beautiful day.
On that Sunday I was honored to be the soloist (flute) for a memorial service for a soldier killed in the Pentagon. It was held at a nearby church, and so many people attended that the crowd overflowed into the next room. Four hundred or more, I think. This soldier's life had touched so many, and the people sat quietly as one after another people would come forward to talk about his life, and our country's life.
The service went on for about three hours. Unbelievable. I kept thinking, I was so glad in a way that I hadn't known the man, because I wouldn't have been able to play; I almost broke down as it was. It was such a great honor to play for this gentleman and his family, and for all of the good people there. This was one of the most moving experiences of my life, and certainly the greatest honor, although the honor wasn't mine but the country's.
My friends, despite all of its flaws we live in such a blessed and good country. Please, let's stay strong and keep it good. God bless America.
1 hour ago