Thank You, Again

I wrote and posted the piece below two years ago.  Doesn't seem like so much time has passed.  I feel the same way today, only stronger.  

I saw the video clip of the dog who mourned at the casket of his brave owner who gave his life protecting American freedoms, my freedoms.  It got me to thinking, again, about the price paid.

This is a special re-post to thank those in uniform who make it so I can go to the church of my choice on Sunday and worship as I please.  A thanks for letting me be an educated woman, free to read and speak as I choose.  A thanks for making a place where my sons can become men of honor wherever their talents and hearts take them.

I love being American.  I appreciate the price paid.

To my Uncle, retired Navy, my cousin, retired Marine, and the "kids" of mine who serve proudly today - thank you.

To those who go in when fire pushes everyone else out.  To those who lose countless hours of sleep trying to figure out who is selling drugs to the latest juvenile overdose victim.  To those who risk their lives to keep the peace.  To those who race off to the latest tragedy to try to save one more life today....

Thank you for taking care of us.  This planet doesn't hold enough to pay you.  

To the Police, Fire and Rescue professionals - thank you.
  
Pass it on.

Friday, September 11, 2009

September 11th - 8 years Later

I wasn't there. I didn't see the planes or smell the dust or hear the screams or the agnonizing silence.

Safely tucked away in the Midwest where nothing bad like that ever happens, I listened in horror. The radio newscaster's voice broke as he tried to relay information about unreal events. It sounded like a bad Hollywood movie, but it was real.

This time it wasn't Jerusalem or Belfast or Seoul. It was happening in our country. The United States of America.

Someone had the audacity to take advantage of our trust. The idea that everyone here from wherever they came could learn to become whoever they wanted to be.

No one expected that would mean that a would-be pilot would destroy instead of build.

Over the years I have spoken with New Yorkers about what this meant to them. They tell of their sorrow, who they knew, how they got out, where they were. They never tire of the telling and I'm grateful.

We can't forget this.

Not so we become angry, refusing to allow "foreigners" to learn new trades. Not so we become suspicious of everyone who looks like someone who might have been involved.

So we can be wary, alert, cautious and protect not only our country from this violence - but other countries as well.

This time it was New York City. It's true. How did we feel?

Many, many times in my lifetime it's has been Beirut, Kabul, Seoul, Belfast, Jersusalem. Lockerbie, Moscow. How do they feel?

What can we as human beings do to lessen the violence in our world? What would Jesus do?