There’s a thickness of fear in the air right now. The unknown hovers and skulks like a pesky younger brother intrigued by his sister’s cute friends. I inherited my worry gene from my mom. She worries about everything. I try not to focus on things out of my control but I worry about other people’s ignorance–especially with the upcoming election. But let’s save that for another day when I have more time and energy.
Today marks the seven year anniversary of the attacks on America. Gosh, is it OK to call it an anniversary? Perhaps memorial is a better word. I think of an anniversary as something special, something to anticipate with gladness–not something like 9/11, a blight on the landscape of our history. I hope we never forget what that day meant/still means. I hope I never take my freedom for granted and the sacrifices our brave heroes make to ensure that freedom lasts a little longer.
I worry that people have forgotten what it felt like that day, when we watched in horror as our seemingly impenetrable land suffered under the hands of crazed extremists. What worries me even more is that they are still out there and still want to destroy us. They don’t want to hurt us. They want to DESTROY us.
Perhaps instead of an external destruction, they are slowly eating away at the core of humanity, yearning for internal combustion.
I hope those out there who pray will get down on their knees and bow their heads and pray for the safety of our country, our people, and the heroes who fight for us to have the freedom to pray.
Take care. Never forget.