September 11

 

September 11

 

Memorial Day

Sunday Scripture

Matthew 5:4 Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.

 It doesn't matter how many years pass, I will always remember a day that changed everything. 

First thing in the morning, I was off to care for my horse, brushing him, cleaning his hooves, feeding him his grain and supplements, and talking to God. On the other side of the country things were changing, and I didn't know. I was oblivious. My usual routine was comfortably familiar.

One of the other horse owners arrived and told me this wild tale of a plane crashing into one of the Twin Towers. I thought she was trying to pull my leg. I didn't scoff or outright express disbelief, but I was leery of falling prey to a joke in poor taste. 

The owner of the property came out and said that a plane had hit the Pentagon as well. A second witness.

We wondered if a couple planes had gone off track. Accidents. They had to be accidents. They weren't.

I needed to pick up the dictation I did as a medical transcriber. I rolled down my window. The experience was surreal. Driving, other cars, going both ways, also had their windows rolled down, and I could hear the same radio broadcast I was listening to. First time ever, we were all tuned into the same thing. 

I couldn't bring myself to say anything at the office. How could I destroy their peaceful morning. It would end soon enough. By this time, the second Tower had been hit.

They reported the plane crashing in Pennsylvania. The moment they said it, I knew the passengers had made a different choice. I prayed for the families and friends left behind as I drove.

I was also scrambling with the knowledge that one of my acquaintances was an airline pilot. No one would report on which airlines were involved. The same information was being reported over and over, but it was all so vague. The last time we talked, one of his routes included the Northeast. I couldn't remember the details. I didn't own a cell phone yet. 

As soon as I arrived home, I called his cell. I expected to reach his voicemail, because he should have been flying. He answered. He was grounded in San Diego; his schedule had recently changed. He didn't know anymore than I did. It was later revealed that other airlines were involved. I felt guilty for being relieved. 

For days, I worked and watched television. I couldn't turn it off. I had to know. For the first time in my life, I felt connected to the world in a way I never had before or since.

Many of my friends lost friends and family. One of my cousins usually ate breakfast at Windows on the World, at the top of the Twin Towers. He was taking his parents to the airport that day. I heard about and read about numerous other lives saved in a similar manner. I remember watching the bodies fall and realizing they preferred to jump than burn to death. I remember thinking how crowded the hospitals would be and then learning that it was a case of either you made it or you didn't. 

Over the years, I've learned about the ferries that transported people and transported people and transported people. I learned about those who walked for miles. I learned about those who went down to ground zero and helped and helped and helped. I learned about the search dogs and how they sometimes "buried" firefighters so the dogs could find someone alive, about the boots that were donated for their paws, about the last working dog passing years later. 

I remember how people came together to help each other. Sadly, there were a few who added to the darkness rather than the light, but they were few. We hung a flag by our front door and kept the porch light on all night, from then on. Every year, I take time to grieve, pray, and remember and endeavor to live my life a little better.

 

Memorial Day

 

Veterans Day

Thank you to all who served.

9 11

Never forget. Always remember.

Eighteen years ago, I woke at dawn and drove five miles to a property surrounded by subdivisions. If you didn't know it was there, you wouldn't know it was there. A home with a barn, hay shed, covered stalls, tack room, round pen, arena, and divided pastures. My gray Arabian/Appaloosa gelding thrived in the far pasture, with two mares. He didn't always act like a gelding, the silly goose. I grained and groomed him, every morning. It was an awesome way to start the day. The other borders came out in the evening, so I always had the place to myself. It was my time to talk to God. After I finished, I'd drop off my work and pick up more dictation, as a medical transcriptionist.

On this day, one of the other borders showed up. Sometimes she came early to exercise some of the horses. I was headed out, and she asked, "Did you hear about the airplane hitting the Twin Towers?"

Did she have a weird sense of humor? I'd had friends who enjoyed pulling your leg. I never liked it because it tested my trust. My trust was on pretty shaky ground. I didn't like the game. If this was a joke, it was a bad one. Nervous of the punchline, I gave a cautious reply, "No."

She proceeded to assure me that a plane had hit the Twin Towers. I didn't believe her, but asked what kind of plane, thinking a small plane gone of course and having trouble. She didn't know. I was ready to abandon her nonsense and go pick up work. The owner came out and said, "Two planes hit the Twin Towers and one just hit the Pentagon."

Were these two in on some kind of game to make me look like an idiot? The distress on the owner's face slowly registered in my brain. She was serious. This wasn't a joke or a game. Dismay slammed into me. I shut down the careening thoughts because I still had to pick up work.

In my car, I kept the window rolled down. It was hot, but I was hot from taking care of the horse, so what did a little more matter? I turned on the radio. The news blared the same tiny bits of information over and over again. As I drove, I passed other cars with their windows rolled down. I could hear their radios. We were all listening to the same thing. I stopped at the doctor's office and my mentor's, dropping off and picking up work.

One of my friends flew for a national carrier. The last I'd heard, he flew several East Coast routes. Not a single report would state which airlines were involved. I guessed that international carriers were used. I felt guilty for hoping my friend wasn't involved. For the first time, I wished I owned a cellphone.

I arrived home, turned on the television, and called my friend. I expected to reach his cellphone. He picked up. He was alive and grounded on the West Coast. His schedule had changed recently. He was in the airport and just turned on his cellphone and didn't know what was going on, so I filled him in. I was grateful he was safe and felt guilty.

When they announced the plane going down in Pennsylvania, the reporters kept saying they didn't know what happened, no one knew what happened. In my heart, I knew.

I left the television on for three days. Never in my life had I felt so connected to the rest of the world. At the same time, I realized how isolated I was. I had no internet because I didn't want to give anyone that kind of access to my computer. I had few friends, a lot of acquaintances but not many close friends. I realized how short and precious life is. Sam's Club sold a T-shirt with "I will not live in fear." I'd been living in fear my whole life. Funnily enough, I'd lived in Yellowstone, Thailand, and England, despite the gnawing fear instilled by years of abuse. I didn't know how, but I had to change.

I took the blinders off regarding what was happening in the rest of the world... not quite true. I'd lived all over the world and was very aware that if I wanted to know what was happening then I needed to know people there. I'd lost all faith in the media in 1985. They reported "Bloody Monday" in Bangkok. I was there for the military coup that didn't even last a day. Sadly, two people died, a reporter trying to take a photograph from a flagpole and an innocent bystander, passing by in a taxi. While my brother was in Korea, the media reported the horrible riots between students and police, except it was reported as much worse than it was. My brother reported that the biggest problem was being caught by teargas.

Months later, I learned a cousin had breakfast at "Windows on the World" every morning before starting work, except that morning. He was taking his parents to the airport.

A number of my friends lost family and friends.

Every year, I watch again the news of that day. I read the stories of those involved. I pray for those still suffering. I've attended a local 9-11 memorial. I wasn't in New York City. I didn't lose anyone I knew. The world changed and so did I. I'd spent my life not looking at the ugliness of the Holocaust. Now, I look at the Holocaust and 9-11. I read books, watch movies and documentaries, listen to the stories, visit sites. I will not turn a blind eye. Pretending evil doesn't exist or sweeping it under the carpet doesn't make it go away. Evil comes in many forms, sometimes enticing, sometimes intriguing, sometimes unexpected but too often invited. I pray I have the courage to stand and face it instead of cowering or turning away. God doesn't require that I fight every evil in the world only what I find in my little corner of the world.

Memorial Day

Honor and Remember

Posted on social media

September 11

Many of my memories are as fresh as if it were yesterday.

I woke, as usual, in the wee hours of the morning, before the sun was up, anyway. It was still dark. I dressed and drove to take care of my horse. I fed him, groomed him, spent time enjoying him, like every single morning for the previous 4+ years. It was my time with God. No one was out at the barn as early as I was. It was the perfect way to start the day.

King's Pawn was an Arabian/Appaloosa. He had the Arabian dish in his nose, but his head wasn't as small. He was a flea-bitten gray, white with tiny brown spot, like little bites, all over. His white mane and tail had a touch of flaxen mixed in.

He'd been abused by his first owner. His second owner worked hard to earn his trust. With her, he'd been trained to second level dressage and then had done some endurance racing. She had him 13 years but could no longer give him the individual care he needed. I took over as his groom for a while. He had a severe colic, and she feared she'd have to put him down. I worked with him. He became mine when he was 18 years old. A story for another day.

I'd finished, for the day, and was headed to my car. I needed to pick up my transcribing work. One of the other boarders approached me and asked if I'd heard about a plane hitting the World Trade Center. I didn't know her well, and I thought her idea of a joke was sick. I'm not good at hiding how I feel, and she kept trying to convince me it was true. I'd had friends in the past who'd tell outrageous stories because they thought it was funny to "trick" people. Yeah, we aren't friends now. I don't find it humorous to make a fool of someone else.

The owner joined us and said that a plane had hit the pentagon. I knew her better and realized neither of them was joking. It was after seven, which made it after ten in New York. There was so much we didn't know yet.

One thought popped into my head: Which airlines were involved? One of my friends, at the time, was a pilot. The last I'd heard, his route was on the east coast. No one knew which airlines were involved.

I turned on the radio in my car and drove to pick up my work, with the windows rolled down. I was already hot and sweaty from taking care of my horse. A little more heat didn't matter. As I passed other cars on the road, with their windows rolled down, I could hear they were listening to the exact same news I was. Neither place where I picked up work knew what had happened.

Upon arriving home, I called my friend, expecting to go to voicemail. He answered, on the west coast, grounded. His route had changed. It was learned later that his airline company wasn't involved.

I turned on the television and left it on for three days. I knew the world had changed, forever.

Several of my friends lost friends.

It wasn't until months later that I learned my cousin usually had breakfast at Windows on the World, at the top of North Tower. He wasn't there that day because he was taking his parents to the airport.

My home is close to an international airport. I'm used to seeing and hearing planes land and take off all day long. The silence of the next few days, both visual and audible, was deafening.

I cried then. I cry now. I continue to find stories I didn't know about at the time. I will remember.

Pondering

There are always only two choices: Free will or slavery

There is only one question: Which will you choose?

Memorial Day

Wordless Wednesday

Sunday Scripture

John 15:13

Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

Memorial Day

Never Forget

Celebrating...

Sometimes, it's important to have a fun party and rejoice. Other times, one needs to take a moment to reflect and thank God for a life.

Twenty-seven years ago, around this date, a black ball of fur was born. The vet, rather than euthanizing the newborns, had made an agreement with the local pet store to sell unwanted puppies. Weeks later, when they were old enough, the pups were put on display at the pet store.

At this same time, I'd decided to take on the responsibility of owning a dog, for several reasons:

*I wanted to be a wife and mother, but I had no patience with babies. A crying baby triggered rage in less than a minute. I wanted to be a good mother, so I needed to learn to control my anger with a creature I couldn't control but loved. A dog was my solution, a baby step, so to speak.

*I wanted a walking companion.

*I've always wanted a dog.

I had no idea the innumerable lessons God had in store for me.

At the pet store, one evening, one particular puppy followed me as I walked around the enclosure. I dreamed about her and even named her in the dream. However, I was determined to make sure I found the exact right dog for me. I was going to visit the pound and the Humane Society. Besides, it had been a couple of days, so maybe the puppy was already adopted. I decided to check, just in case. I'd visit the pet store and then the other places. You can probably guess what happened.

The puppy was still there. I took her out and placed her on the ground. She came to me. I picked her up, set her on the ground a few feet away, and she came to me. I did it a third time. She came to me. I cuddled her, and yes, she snuggled up and stole my heart.

She taught me that anger frightened her. She would freeze, unwilling to move or respond in any way. I had to control my anger. As she grew older, she would hide when I was angry. I discovered the power of anger. I also discovered it could serve a purpose. I kept a number of unfriendly stray dogs away by directing that anger.

She also taught me about sulking and letting go. It was an unexpected lesson and took me a while to learn what she was trying to teach me. I would be angry over her disobedience. She would wait and then bring me a string bone to play tug-o-war. I discovered she also became mad at me. I would wait a little, and then offer her the string bone to play tug-o-war. Playing tug-o-war was our way of saying that everything was okay. It was okay to be mad, but we never waited too long to offer to play the game. She would also notice when someone else made me mad. Offering to play the game was her way of wanting to make sure everything was all right between us. Sort of a "you're not mad at me, are you?" No, my darling, I wasn't.

She taught me the value of caring for a pet as she aged. I washed soiled sheets at three in the morning and learned to use warm water to wash her off. I loved her all the more for caring for her through those final years.

She taught me about silliness.

She taught me the wonder of calming simply by stroking her soft ears, running my fingers through her thick fur.

She taught me about gentle touch.

She taught me the importance of being the pack leader, no mushiness, no wishy-washiness. The importance to her that I be in charge.

She taught me of her pricelessness in simply being herself.

My counselor once teased me that I shouldn't trust her so much because a piece of meat would distract her. I assured him that protecting me wasn't her job. He gaped. Her job was to be my early warning system. She'd let me know when anyone came home. She let me know if someone was at the door, as I often didn't hear the doorbell. She let me know if someone was walking down the hall. She let me know if someone was coming up behind us when we were out for a walk. It was her job to warn me and my job to protect both of us. I did my best.

She taught me to stop accepting belittling. I had no trouble correcting anyone if they insulted her or called her an unkind name.

She taught me about eating healthy. I was willing to take care of her while I neglected myself. I wasn't good at translating the care from her to me, but I understood I needed to learn to do it.

She was scary smart.

She made me laugh.

In a few months, it's been ten years since I sent her home. Not a choice I ever wanted to make. Seventeen was remarkably old for a dog her size. I'm grateful, every day, God allowed her to stay with me as long as she did.

I could have done better. Wish I'd done better. I was better at the end than I was at the beginning.

I still miss her desperately.

Sometimes, I pray to God and ask Him to tell her I love her and miss her and to throw a ball to her for me. She was mine, and I was hers. She was my daily living reminder that God loved me, my precious angel sent from God for me.

Always Remember

 
It was a typical early September morning. The night cooled off a bit, but the rising of the sun brought summer-like heat. I'd finished graining and grooming my horse. I didn't mind the dirt and the sweat. One of the other boarders arrived and told me a plane had flown into one of the Twin Towers. I didn't know her well and thought it a sick joke. The owner of the property came out and added that the other Tower had been hit, as well as the Pentagon. As I listened to them share information, I realized they were telling me the truth. A part of me wanted to believe they were playing a trick on me, but a part of me knew they weren't.

I still had work to pickup. I drove with the radio on and my windows rolled down. Every car on the road was listening to the same thing I was. No one in the offices knew, and I hated being the bearer of such awful news.

One of my friends was a pilot. The news wouldn't reveal which airlines were involved. The guilt of feeling so selfish was a battle all its own. I prayed for those who lost loved ones.

This wasn't the first time, but it was the worst.

I arrived home from picking up work around nine, noon Eastern time. I turned on the television and left it on for the next several days. A flag has flown at the house ever since.

Several of my friends lost people they knew. A month later, I discovered a cousin was supposed to be at a meeting at the top of one of the towers but was taking his parents to the airport.

In April 1986, the US bombed Libya. A few days later, I flew to England. Most people had cancelled their trips. There were only a few of us on the flight, so few one of the flight attendants asked us to share why we were flying. The attendants all admitted they needed the pay. Every passenger was returning home, except one. She was meeting her military husband in Germany. I was the only who didn't "need" to travel. They weren't sure what to make of me. They asked.

"If it's my time to die, it won't matter where I am. I might as well be doing what I want to do."

What happened to that brave young woman?

I returned home and gradually withdrew. The ravages of life-long abuse caught up with me. Complex PTSD and other health problems took their toll. Coping skills I'd learned as a child didn't work as an adult, let alone long term. I struggled to be brave.

On 9/11, that brave young woman awoke. I still didn't know what to do with the mess of my life, but I wasn't going to fade away. On 9/11, I discovered I wasn't nearly as alone as I'd believed, but I had to leap outside my comfort zone to find where I belonged. It wasn't what I imagined or expected. I'm still learning.

On 9/11, I reflect on those who lost their lives, everyday people. When I heard about the plane that flew into the ground I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the passengers had done something, something brave. I wondered, would I have been so courageous? I think of the people who lost loved ones, an empty place forever at the table. I think of strangers helping strangers. I endeavor to be more like them.

I want to live my life fully, difficult but not impossible. I want to miss those I've lost. You see, there was a time I'd so thoroughly walled myself off that I barely noticed the passing of a life. Now, I miss those I've lost and those I don't see as often as I'd like. It's a good thing. I want to help strangers. I want to appreciate those who do the hard stuff. I want to appreciate those who do the mundane everyday stuff. I want to be grateful for life. Sometimes, I'm successful. Sometimes, I'm not. Every day, I'm given the opportunity to be who I want to be, who I believe God always intended. All I needed to do was choose and trust Him to help me.

Always remember. Never forget. God bless.

Never Forget

Life and Death...

Palm Sunday.

Did you know that donkeys were a symbol of peace? Did you know that donkeys are smart and fierce? I recently read an article that explained why a donkey appears stubborn. The little critters like to think things through and decide if what you're asking is reasonable. There's a reason the rides into the Grand Canyon are on mules, a cross between a horse and a donkey. A horse will walk off the trail if you push it. A mule won't. A donkey is also often used as a guard dog for sheep. They will assess the danger and attack, if necessary.

I was often called stubborn as a mule. Thanks for the compliment.

Nothing is coincidence with God.

Friday's coming, but so is Sunday.

Jesus knew what was coming. He knew it would be painful and nearly unbearable. He didn't waver.

As a Christian, I should stubbornly follow Christ.

If I'm truly Christian, then I believe it is my responsibility to follow Jesus. I know He won't lead me astray. And yet, how often do I procrastinate or shy away when I know something will be difficult? Too often.

If I truly believe Jesus walks with me when I choose to walk in His way, then my faith demands I step forward boldly. I'm human. I fear making mistakes. Kind of silly. I'm human. I WILL make mistakes. God knew I would.

The Father allowed the sacrifice of His Beloved Son, and His Beloved Son volunteered because it was the only way to bring me Home. Jesus volunteered and persevered through to the end, including the Resurrection not because He was forced to do it but because He loves each of us THAT much.

May your day be blessed.

Sharing favorite quotes and...

...lines from some of my favorite Christmas stories, every day on my Facebook author page.

https://www.facebook.com/LaurelHawkes

Christ is the reason for the season.

...mas... Without Christ, there is no Christmas.

"Marley was dead: to begin with."

I'm looking for more ways to help me embrace the season. It can be tough for survivors.

I listen to Christmas music. I'm re-reading my favorite Christmas romance stories. I watch Christmas programs I enjoy. I'm adding a Christmas decoration every day. I'm working on Christmas gifts every day. I'm endeavoring to fill my mind and heart with the reason for the season.

May you be blessed.

Happy Easter

A time of reflection and rejoicing.

Jesus lived to teach me how to live.

Jesus Christ determined I was worth dying for.

Sometimes, I'm tempted to disagree. I feel worthless. I recognize my plethora of imperfections. I cannot deny my flaws, my mistakes, my sins. I endeavor to do better and fail and fail and fail.

Sometimes, it's difficult to remember. Jesus didn't die for me for what I do right in my life. Jesus died for me for all the things wrong in my life.

Jesus conquered sin, spiritual death.

Jesus rose from the dead, conquering the final chains of physical death.

The end for which the first was made.

Jesus Christ, my Savior, my Redeemer, my Lord, and my King.