Ten years ago, we were ten years younger.
Breast cancer was ten years in our future.
My wife was home schooling that day. I was in my science classroom. Melissa Kyle had a social studies room in the science circle and was across the hall and kitty corner to my right.
The sun was shining.
The birds were singing.
It was a stunning September day. More stunning than we expected.
The first hint that anything was wrong was when my wife called to say that Josh had come running up from the basement to say that a jet had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York.
What a naïve statement. That was all anyone knew. “A jet had crashed into the World Trade Center.” Those were the last innocent words of September 11, 2001. Everything changed after that and not one of us has remained untouched; not even my 14 month old grandson. He was born into a world that cringed every time an airplane went off course. He was born into a world where identities are checked, double-checked then checked again. He was born into a world where the nursery was locked, double-locked and then IDs of mother, child, parents, grandparents and everyone else was checked…because you never know.
I KNOW the world has changed again and again and again. “The day that will live in infamy…” changed everything. The assassination of JFK changed everything. The explosion of the first atomic bomb over Hiroshima changed everything. The first heart transplant changed everything. The harnessing of fire changed everything.
We live in a world where something is changing everything all the time.
One hundred and seventy days ago – March 26, 2011 – was the day that changed the life of my wife and the rest of our family. The confirmation of breast cancer forced us to confront something we had heard all about but rarely mattered to us in a deeply personal way.
Nine years and three-hundred and sixty-four days ago, was the day that changed the life of every American (and the families and friends of 372 foreign nationals from 56 different countries). Terrorism was part of the life of every Israeli, every inhabitant of India, every Spaniard, every Iraqui. We knew that, but it rarely mattered to us in a deeply personal way.
On this Patriot Day, I think about the things I know about that don’t matter to me and I will try to care; and I will definitely pray for those whose lives have collided with breast cancer and family loss – and Lupus, skin cancer, CP and autism. Those are the things I can think of.
What can you think of?
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