It's been ten years since one of the most horrifying days in U. S. (and world) history. Even though I was knee-high to a (insert something excessively small here) when it happened, I still remember that very day.
It was a Tuesday. I was wandering around the house, pretending to get ready for school. While sitting at the table to eat breakfast, I heard the phone ring and saw my mom pick it up. I could hear my dad's voice on the other end, and after a hurried conversation my mom hung up and rushed to turn on the TV. The next thing I saw...
...was an enormously tall building burning up like there was no tomorrow.
I think we were watching when the second tower was hit.
I had no idea what was happening, and I didn't have much time (or mental capacity) to wonder. School was starting.
In class, the news was on for the better part of the morning. Grownups attempted to explain the situation to us, but what did we know? We were just kids. All I knew was that planes had hit in New York and other places, and I think I almost understood the fact that my country was reeling, with no idea of what to do next.
I believe that night was the only time I've ever seen my dad cry.
I suppose you'll have to read President Monson's article for the rest of the story. He's much more eloquent and enlightening than I'll ever hope to be. I will remember that day for the rest of my life, and I pray that it will forever remind us to marvel at the miracles that constantly surround us, and never to take our blessings for granted. Yes, we have all been blessed.
May we always remember that the wonders of this world come straight from our Heavenly Father, and may we give thanks to Him continually.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I can only take the sound of my own voice for so long--shake things up and add a little something of your own to this wonderful corner of cyberspace! Comments/wisdom of others is greatly appreciated.