Nine Eleven. The day I couldn't wait to scoop my eight-month-old baby girl into my arms and hold her close all day long. The day I sat on the couch next to Jared, absolutely stunned as I watched the news and tried to wrap my head around the horrendous events that real people were dealing with. Real people who had said goodbye to their families the same way they'd probably done for years...expecting to return at the end of a busy day full of responsibility and business and important decisions.
In an instant, the individuals of our nation were re-assessing their priorities and examining their lives. And I was one of them. And it only took that instant to remind me that my family and my relationships with other people were the priority of my life.
And that's a day I'll never forget. I'll always remember waking up to the news just seconds after my alarm clock went off. Because we always remember where we were and what we were doing when disaster strikes.
And looking back I remember how I wanted Brita close to me so I could protect her and keep her safe. And I remember how I wanted to stay close to Jared and feel his arms around me.
And then some time passed and I forgot those things. I forgot how important my family was to me because I was tired of changing diapers and doing things on my own while Jared went to school and studied.
Then Nine Eleven came again the next year and then I remembered again.
And then more dirty diapers came along, and I forgot.
But I have Nine Eleven to remind me again and again...every single year.
This year I didn't need Nine Eleven to remind me of those things because I was already remembering. Over the weekend I learned that a guy I went to high school with died in the LoToJa bike race. Out of 1,500 race participants, one of them, an experienced cyclist and great guy, was involved in a freak accident. And I happened to know him.
We were never best friends and I never knew much about his life after high school. We did happen to be partners for the "mixed" (boy-girl teams) field day events in sixth grade and we both received the "Hope of America" award that year. We had a few classes together in high school and we studied together once in college when we had a class together. But that's about the extent of it. So I ask myself why I can't get his tragic death out of my head.
Then I realized it's because I saw a picture of his family. He has three kids - his oldest looks like he's probably just a tad older than Brita. He's a family man. He worked hard to provide for his family. He's my same age. Even though I wasn't there, I know he happened to be at our 25-year high school reunion this past summer. I could have been there and talked to him - maybe could have caught up on his life and realized that our lives have some similarities.
This is a situation I can relate to - not because I have been through the same experience, but because if something like this can happen to Robert and his family, then it can happen to other families that are like his.
I read about this accident on Sunday or Monday, I can't remember which. That night I had a series of really disturbing dreams, and each time I woke up I slid over close to Jared because I was so grateful that he was there with me. So, so grateful. As I started through the motions of the next day, I realized that I was doing more than just going through the motions. I was more intent. I was happy to help Meg get dressed and to help the girls with their hair. I was happy to let an annoyance with Jared slide by because I wanted a hug from him more than I wanted to vent a frustration. Even though I was tired, I was genuinely happy to see my girls park their bikes in the garage so that we could get on with the nightly rituals of homework, piano practice, and dinner preparations.
I have never been so aware of my personal gratitude in my life. And that gratitude has changed me. Sure, I stepped out on Family Home Evening last night because I was tired of the fighting, and I know I've lost my patience and given disapproving looks to each of my children and maybe even hubbie over the past few days. But even if I forget again and have to be reminded of my blessings on next year's Nine Eleven, the changes in my heart and in my interactions with my family have at least done something for my relationships with each of them for a day or two. And that's okay because nothing becomes strong in an instant - strength comes from building up our weaknesses little by little.
As I mourn for Robert's family and for the unexpected circumstances they find themselves in, and as I catch glimpses of how people's lives have been affected because of 9/11, I feel overwhelming gratitude for our Savior - for His love, for His sacrifice, for His plan. And I feel a resolve to do better.
Nine Eleven and the sudden, unexpected death of a peer have humbled me today. Just like I wanted to protect my only child on that day eleven years ago, I want to protect all of them today. The best way I can protect my girls is to protect my relationship with each of them and with their dad. Strong relationships will protect our family.
And every family is worth protecting.
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