When I went to bed last night, the only thing on my mind was my science lesson I was due to teach in the morning. I didn't say my nighttime prayers or think about our men and women overseas. I was only concerned with me, me, me. Sometimes I think we all get into these ruts where there are so many things to do between sun up and sun down that we get caught up in it all and forget about the things that matter
The alarm went off at 6:00 AM and I snoozed it until 7:30 (bad girl, I know). The first thing I did when I crawled out of bed was open my laptop and double click for internet. The MSN homepage stopped me in my tracks: OSAMA BIN LADEN IS DEAD. I re-read it to make sure and then clicked on the article. Oh, and then I jumped on Tyson (who is the grumpiest, non-morning person ever) wildly screaming the news. Adrenaline was seriously pumping through my veins. I was crying. I couldn't even contain my joy, reading the news that this evil man had been served justice.
Now, you must be thinking that I have a Dad or brother or sister in the Service, or maybe I lost someone close to me in 9/11, but no. I've always been a patriotic person (being born on Flag Day might be the cause). Something about this great country has always been beautiful to me. I'm the person who sobs hearing a beautiful rendition of the National Anthem, watching the memorial tributes to soldiers on the news, or watching the soldier homecoming videos on youtube. America is the best country in the world, and I for one am PROUD to live here.
The emotion I felt this morning hearing about the raid was the opposite end of the spectrum I felt nearly ten years ago, 11 years old, seeing a plane crash into the World Trade Centers. That same feeling I had when I went to school that day and I was scared that our country was no longer safe. That feeling I had when our teachers were huddled together crying, telling us that this was a day of infamy, one that we would never forget. The first day I was ever encouraged to pray in school-- to pray for our God to help us, heal us, and make us strong again. This was the day that my generation lost it's innocence. I sat and I cried.
8 months after that solemn day, I myself was at Ground Zero. I was joined by the same classmates who watched the footage with me, and the same teacher who told us to never forget. Americans are strong, but this was a sacred ground where men and women came to pay their respects and be weak if need be. I was 11 years old, but the message of that disaster zone was loud and clear. I was numb. The rubble still stood. Emotions were still raw. Pictures of Mommies and Daddies and sons and daughters plastered the site. I sat and I cried.
And today, nearly ten years, I feel like our country has found a small victory. My heart still hurts for those who have lost, but there is finally justice. And in that, I find peace. So this morning, I forgot about my lesson. I forgot about making sure my hair looked perfect and my shoes matched my dress. This morning, I rummaged around the back of my closet and pulled out a little American flag. I held it to my heart and remembered that I am blessed to live in the best country in the world. And I am blessed to have a wonderful God who loves me. Nothing else matters.
God Bless America.
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