Why is it that on Sunday morning my eyes pop open at 4 a.m., and I can't go back to sleep for anything; and tomorrow morning when the alarm chirps at 5:30, I won't be able to focus my eyes enough to get out of bed for at least 15 minutes? Drives. Me. Insane.
On a much more serious note - 9/11/2011. Has it really been 10 years? Has it only been 10 years? At times it seems like only yesterday. Watching news footage of that day can immediately bring back the fear and sorrow and longing to collect my family and hold them close. I can't imagine what it will be like for those families who will visit the NYC WTC memorial today. My thoughts and prayers go out to them.
Last night Brooke and I took a small contagion of our youth group to Warren for an outdoor concert. It was a quickly planned trip. We saw the band Two Empty Chairs at a youth conference last winter, and when we saw a poster advertising a concert, wanted to go hear them again. Many of the kids had previous plans, but we had enough to remind me that I have missed spending time with them each week. Tonight we officially start back to UMY, and I am excited - it's going to be a great year.
I am writing in my usual position. Squished to one side of the chair because Lucy Mercer has to have the other. And Jacob can't quite figure out where his spot is. As of this moment he is sleeping on the ottoman. I can't move, or he thinks I want him in the already crowded chair. He frequently "helps" me type. Which explains the two keys currently missing on this keyboard.
Yesterday as I was vacuuming, I decided to stop and order a part for my Dyson. The bottom plate needs to be replaced. The tiny wheels stopped rolling and have worn down so that now it sometimes sits too close to the floor and can't get enough air do its job. I've been meaning to order a new part for some time now but only think about it when I am using the vacuum. Anyway, Lovey came in just as I was finding the Dyson website. I asked him to look on the machine and tell me the model. Well one thing led to another, several parts were removed from the vacuum, and when nothing else would just pop off, Lovey went for tools. About an hour later, I just decided to proceed without him. The vacuum is back together, the floors have been cleaned, and I still haven't ordered a new plate with tiny wheels. But I do have some advice for you: if it's been a while (or maybe never) since you've cleaned the undercarriage of your vacuum, and you can't be exactly sure what someone else might have sucked up with it - don't look, just go buy a new vacuum.
Showing posts with label remembering 9/11. Show all posts
Showing posts with label remembering 9/11. Show all posts
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
Where were you?
Like most Americans, hearing the news of Osama Bin Laden's death has taken me back to that day. The day that seems so long ago. The day that changed so much. Families, travel, skylines, history. With all of the loss and devastation, can there be any good that came from that day?
It was a regular morning: rush, rush, hurry, hurry, get out the door. Did I kiss the boys that morning, or was I fussing and rushing them to the bus stop? I do remember that I needed gas in my truck but decided that to save time I would fill up after school. So I was probably fussing and rushing instead of hugging and kissing. I do remember the school day starting just like any other. And I will never forget the words over the intercom, "Teachers, please turn on your TV's so that you can see what is going on in the world around us." Why would she say that? "See what's going on in the world around us." The attendance secretary who made the announcement is a friend of mine. The tone of her voice, the words she chose, I knew before I pushed the power button that something of great importance would come into focus once I got the metal clothes hanger antennae in just the right position. Nothing could have prepared me for the picture I would find.
I wanted to run. I wanted my family. I wanted to feel safe. I wanted to cry. I wanted to turn the TV off and pretend it never happened. I had a room full of 9th grade students. I had to stay put. I had to comfort them. Make them feel safe. Let them know it was okay to cry. We watched, we talked, we prayed, and as the day went on we cried. I have to admit that in the beginning some of my students didn't understand what had happened. They couldn't comprehend how much their lives were changing, had changed in a matter of minutes. It took a while for students to make the connections - my cousin lives in New York City, my uncle works at the Pentagon, my brother is flying today - slowly these thoughts floated to the surface. I can't always get Lovey on the phone and don't remember talking to him until sometime that afternoon. But I do remember calling my momma. Who of our friends and family might be on a plane today? I wanted to account for everyone. I called my sister. I wanted to see them all. Put my arms around them. Hold their faces in my hands.
As the day progressed, parents began to show up. Some to take their students home; some who, like me, only wanted to see them all. Put their arms around them. Hold faces in their hands. Staying at that school so far from my own kids was so difficult, yet I couldn't leave. Even in the teacher's lounge someone had tuned a TV to the news coverage. During lunch I left my room but couldn't tear myself away from the coverage. Finally 3:30 came, time to go home. But first I had to get gas. I worked my way towards home. Station after station was out of gas. The stations in town who had gas also had extremely long lines, and by now, I was desperate to get home to my family. I didn't have time to wait in line. I thought that the small country stores would be immune to the long lines. I was wrong. I drove and drove until I finally had to wait in line. This scared me almost as much as the horrible things I had witnessed on TV during day. I stopped at a small local store. I had known most of the people in line for years and years. I witnessed people yelling and screaming at friends; I saw people filling container after container with gas while the rest of us waited and wondered if the tanks would empty before we would have our turn. I started to wonder if I would run out gas while waiting in line. I had no choice but to wait; I had pushed my limit already, driving as far as I dared on my empty tank. I still had 15 or so miles before I was home. I prayed, "Please Lord, let the gas hold out until it's my turn." I must admit if the gas had run out before I got my turn - I'm not sure what I would have done. I had held it together for about as long as I could; it wouldn't take much to push me over the edge. But I did get enough gas to finally make it home.
After so many hours of watching the news from school, I hugged and kissed my babies and as soon as they were in bed, I went right back to watching the news. It was impossible to not watch. Everyone wondered what would happen next. It was as though the country was holding our collective breaths waiting for the next explosion. Am I the only one who remembers the day as if it were running in slow motion? During the night, I found myself going into the boy's room to watch them sleep. Just to be sure. Of what? That they were sleeping? That they were breathing? That they were. Because so many had started that morning being - but were no longer. I prayed for them, for their families, and counted my many blessings.
That night seems so long ago, yet last night as Baby Jus and I worked on his final high school assignment, I got a tweet about Bin Laden's death. Then another that announced full coverage on the news. I didn't even turn on the TV. I didn't want to think about that day. I didn't want to give the man any more power over me. We Americans have pieced together a new life, a new way of living. So many more have lost family members. I did watch a short bit of news this afternoon. I saw that in some places people celebrated in the streets. I understand their exuberance. I respect their need to claim the victory. I cannot celebrate anything concerning this man and the devastation he has caused. I saw this status on facebook earlier today:
Has any good come of that day? The day serves as a reminder. I know how precious each day is. I realize how quickly circumstances can change. I appreciate the sacrifices that have been made for me.
It was a regular morning: rush, rush, hurry, hurry, get out the door. Did I kiss the boys that morning, or was I fussing and rushing them to the bus stop? I do remember that I needed gas in my truck but decided that to save time I would fill up after school. So I was probably fussing and rushing instead of hugging and kissing. I do remember the school day starting just like any other. And I will never forget the words over the intercom, "Teachers, please turn on your TV's so that you can see what is going on in the world around us." Why would she say that? "See what's going on in the world around us." The attendance secretary who made the announcement is a friend of mine. The tone of her voice, the words she chose, I knew before I pushed the power button that something of great importance would come into focus once I got the metal clothes hanger antennae in just the right position. Nothing could have prepared me for the picture I would find.
I wanted to run. I wanted my family. I wanted to feel safe. I wanted to cry. I wanted to turn the TV off and pretend it never happened. I had a room full of 9th grade students. I had to stay put. I had to comfort them. Make them feel safe. Let them know it was okay to cry. We watched, we talked, we prayed, and as the day went on we cried. I have to admit that in the beginning some of my students didn't understand what had happened. They couldn't comprehend how much their lives were changing, had changed in a matter of minutes. It took a while for students to make the connections - my cousin lives in New York City, my uncle works at the Pentagon, my brother is flying today - slowly these thoughts floated to the surface. I can't always get Lovey on the phone and don't remember talking to him until sometime that afternoon. But I do remember calling my momma. Who of our friends and family might be on a plane today? I wanted to account for everyone. I called my sister. I wanted to see them all. Put my arms around them. Hold their faces in my hands.
As the day progressed, parents began to show up. Some to take their students home; some who, like me, only wanted to see them all. Put their arms around them. Hold faces in their hands. Staying at that school so far from my own kids was so difficult, yet I couldn't leave. Even in the teacher's lounge someone had tuned a TV to the news coverage. During lunch I left my room but couldn't tear myself away from the coverage. Finally 3:30 came, time to go home. But first I had to get gas. I worked my way towards home. Station after station was out of gas. The stations in town who had gas also had extremely long lines, and by now, I was desperate to get home to my family. I didn't have time to wait in line. I thought that the small country stores would be immune to the long lines. I was wrong. I drove and drove until I finally had to wait in line. This scared me almost as much as the horrible things I had witnessed on TV during day. I stopped at a small local store. I had known most of the people in line for years and years. I witnessed people yelling and screaming at friends; I saw people filling container after container with gas while the rest of us waited and wondered if the tanks would empty before we would have our turn. I started to wonder if I would run out gas while waiting in line. I had no choice but to wait; I had pushed my limit already, driving as far as I dared on my empty tank. I still had 15 or so miles before I was home. I prayed, "Please Lord, let the gas hold out until it's my turn." I must admit if the gas had run out before I got my turn - I'm not sure what I would have done. I had held it together for about as long as I could; it wouldn't take much to push me over the edge. But I did get enough gas to finally make it home.
After so many hours of watching the news from school, I hugged and kissed my babies and as soon as they were in bed, I went right back to watching the news. It was impossible to not watch. Everyone wondered what would happen next. It was as though the country was holding our collective breaths waiting for the next explosion. Am I the only one who remembers the day as if it were running in slow motion? During the night, I found myself going into the boy's room to watch them sleep. Just to be sure. Of what? That they were sleeping? That they were breathing? That they were. Because so many had started that morning being - but were no longer. I prayed for them, for their families, and counted my many blessings.
That night seems so long ago, yet last night as Baby Jus and I worked on his final high school assignment, I got a tweet about Bin Laden's death. Then another that announced full coverage on the news. I didn't even turn on the TV. I didn't want to think about that day. I didn't want to give the man any more power over me. We Americans have pieced together a new life, a new way of living. So many more have lost family members. I did watch a short bit of news this afternoon. I saw that in some places people celebrated in the streets. I understand their exuberance. I respect their need to claim the victory. I cannot celebrate anything concerning this man and the devastation he has caused. I saw this status on facebook earlier today:
.."Say unto them, As I live, saith the Lord GOD, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his way and live: turn ye, turn ye from your evil ways; for why will ye die, O house of Israel?" Ezekiel 33:11
I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked. Tonight I celebrate the life of all those around the world who have died because of this evil man, I celebrate the many wives, husbands, mothers, fathers, children, and friends who have been force to build a new normal because this man's evil plans have left a hole in their lives and their hearts. Has any good come of that day? The day serves as a reminder. I know how precious each day is. I realize how quickly circumstances can change. I appreciate the sacrifices that have been made for me.
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