Everyone remembers what they were doing when the attacks happened on 9/11, and I’ve often wished I was doing something more significant than the usual weekday routine. On Sept. 11, 2001, after putting two of my children on the school bus, I waved to the driver, walked back to the kitchen and poured my second cup of coffee. With my youngest still asleep, I sat down with my Bible and journal and wrote that this was the “most peaceful part of my day.” The television was off. For me, it was still a Tuesday morning like any other. I wrote about the sunshine and gratitude for our new home and assignment at Moody Air Force Base, Georgia.
I had no idea what was happening at the Pentagon, or Shanksville, or Ground Zero, or even at the base—less than a mile away from our home—where my husband was already dealing with the tragedy unfolding and planning what would follow.
In the moment, I was oblivious to events that would affect every part of our military life from that day forward, but the prayer I wrote in my journal before I knew my world had changed would sustain me in the days, months, and years that followed.
“Life is full of change,” I wrote. “Life is change … Lord, when the circumstances of my life seem too good to be true, help me to look only to you. I know that my joy doesn’t come from these things but from the hope I have in you … Your ways are higher than my ways, as high as the heavens are above the earth.”
Twenty years after writing those words, another eleventh of September has caught me off guard, unprepared and unsure how to mark this milestone. In some ways, I wish I was taking part in something symbolically significant, a commemoration or a ceremony on this day of remembrance. At the same time, I’m happy to be where I am, on a visit to see my family in Oklahoma.
Ceremonies are important, time set aside to remember the lost and honor their sacrifices. Symbols matter because they stand for something real: lives well-lived, people well-loved, events far beyond our comprehension. As high as the heavens are above the earth
This morning, I stood on my mom’s front porch with my second cup of coffee and watched the sun rising over the neighbor’s pasture. This is a good day to notice the significance of the small things, little ceremonies that make up a life well-lived. Kissing a sleeping child. Waving to the bus driver. A hot cup of coffee. Singing birds. Grazing cows. A funny text from one of my now grownup children. A walk to the farmer’s market with my husband. Lunch with my mom and all my sisters.
A beautiful blue sky on another September morning.
These really aren’t small things at all.
Terri Barnes is a writer, book editor, and book lover. She is the author of Spouse Calls: Messages from a Military Life.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.
Isaiah 55:8-9