A day like any other.

Everybody knows what today is. And I still don’t know quite how to process what it all means, or what it should mean. Every year for the past 10, I reflect on that Tuesday morning, the days leading up to and following it.

I’ve tuned out all of the media coverage this week, not because I’m avoiding it but because I hope September 11, the actual day, can become a day like any other. The event is something that will forever mark and shape the rest of our lives, and we will always talk about it. I mean, I was at a party last night and we were all preparing to wrap up and leave, but someone mentioned air travel or New York or security or something, and we stayed in the kitchen another hour discussing where we were and how we felt about it. We had a special and important conversation. I will never forget what happened, those we lost, those who showed unimaginable bravery. I think of them almost every day, especially when my eye catches the clock at 9:11 a.m. or p.m. That eerily happens a lot. I need September 11 to represent a reason that we celebrate love, life and service, not one that stops us in our tracks every year.
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Keeping the faith.

I’ve discovered a new TV show on OWN to be obsessed about:  Miracle Detectives.

It’s a show about faith and searching for possible miracles — Randall is a journalist and a believer, while Indre is a scientist and a skeptic. They find and investigate stories of “mysteries that transcend logic,” trying to prove or disprove whether God is at work or something else is happening. It’s fascinating.

I need to state for the record that I’m a Christian and I believe in God. I really don’t think I could get through the day if I didn’t. But I also think believing is a wholly personal thing that I don’t share easily or readily, and it’s not up to me to make you feel differently than you do. I just know that God is all around us, that everything happens for a reason and that it’s not our circumstances we should focus on, but our behavior in and reactions to situations that are important. For me, having faith is about letting go, knowing that you don’t have to understand or push or worry. I’ve found that if you just keep the faith, meditate on what God’s told us and listen to your inner voice, it’s a whole lot less stressful than trying to make everything happen for yourself. I’ve been led places and to do things that I never could have imagined or planned. I’m not as comfortable with the word “religion” and all the ceremony, church iconography and touchy-feelyness of fellowship. I just read the words, watch a little Joyce Meyer and talk to God when I need to … then somehow it all works out. Keep reading »

An anniversary.

Nine years today. Gosh. That’s almost a full decade! And even so, I don’t think I’ve fully processed that day, how it changed the city and our whole country, the world. But I won’t go on and on about it. You know.

I took a writing seminar this summer on memoir. I’ve always liked family stories, and I haven’t taken a true writing class since I was 12. I thought it would push me but also give me some structure on how to put personal stories together into some sort of narrative. In class, our moderator would read a poem or story and ask us to choose a phrase from it that spoke to us. Then we’d have 10 minutes to write, in longhand, without stopping. She stressed the not stopping – even if you had to write, “This is stupid and I have nothing to say and I can’t think of anything and I hate this class,” etc. for the full time. She assured us that eventually the exercise would take us somewhere surprising.

Indeed.

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