The Day America Held Its Breath

September 11^th was like any of the other 534 Tuesday's that I had lived in my short, 10 year old life. We were living in Monroe, North Carolina at the time and it was sunny and 79 degrees, a little warm for an autumn morning. I remember this day explicitly because every Tuesday during the school year, our homeschool group would come together and meet at the local park to enjoy the outdoors. The moment we got in the car, I knew something was wrong. Our radio station was tuned to the usual station, but all they were playing over and over was this news report. I remember my slightly older pre-teen sister asking my mom to change the station to something that was playing some music. But it didn't make a difference. Every station on the FM wavelength was playing the same bulletin, reporting on the same story. Being ten years of age, I had never heard of the World Trade Center nor never knew the significance. But that was about to change.

The sense of something being wrong increased as we pulled into the parking lot of the park. Instead of the laughter and squeals from the merry-go-round and the toddlers crying at the seesaw, there was one congregation underneath the picnic shelter. Parents and kids of all ages sat hushed around a portable radio that someone had brought out, listening to the same report that had been playing for well over an hour now. “Two planes have been flown into the side of the World Trade Center in New York City right now and officials are scrambling to try to find the origin of the attacks...” A few of the parents stood off in the back of the crowd with their hands over their mouths as tears slowly made their way down fear-frozen faces. It seemed like everyone had forgotten how to move, how to think. I can't remember how long this scene went on, but after a while the parents turned off the radio and shooed all of the children out of the shelter to go play. After clearing the picnic shelter, they consoled one another in tones that painted death in shades of gray.

Still not fully understanding, we all went off and tried our best to enjoy the beautiful September skies. Later that night, we, along with every other household in America, watched the news for hours trying to fully grasp the brevity of the situation. It was the day that America held its breath in horror of the events that took place.

Now, 10 years later, America holds its breath once again as we pause to reflect on lives lost and the heroes that sacrificed themselves that others might live. When I was thinking about enlisting 9/11 didn't give me any cause for hesitation. If anything, it solidified my premonitions. I joined to serve and protect the people I love. Not out of some whacked out sense of self-importance, but so that if it ever came down to it, I know that I wouldn't be holding back.

My heart goes out to the firefighters, first responders, police men and women, and all of the soldiers, marines, sailors, and airmen that lost their lives over that one, horrendous day. May we, our children, and our children's children never forget where we've been, where we've come from, and what He's brought us through. God bless those who have fallen and their families, and God bless America, land of the free because of the brave.