We lived within a two-hour drive of NYC on 9-11. It was a gorgeous day for mid-September -- a bit too cool for a fleece jacket, bright blue sky, brisk wind. I was dressing the kids, almost two years old by then, for walk in the stroller when I got the phone call from my husband. He had been watching the smoking wreck of the first tower on TV, and while he had me on the phone, the second tower was hit. The kids and I went walking anyway, praying mightily for a people who hated us enough to kill us all.
The Thursday after, I went to a service at the Episcopal church and sang with strangers:
"God bless our native land,
firm may she ever stand,
through storm and might.
When the wild tempest raves,
ruler of wind and wave,
do thou our country save
by thy great might."
I'll never sing that song again without crying.
No comments:
Post a Comment