Where Were You?

Eight years ago, I was sitting at the drive-up window of the bank where I worked (it opened earlier than the rest if the bank, so I already had customers). My mom called to tell me she was watching Good Morning America and that a plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings. I thought she meant a small plane, like a Cessna, had flown too close and clipped the building or something minor and couldn’t figure out why she was calling me at work to tell me. I got off the phone and a couple of minutes later, one of my regular customers pulled up and asked if I’d heard about the plane. I called my mom back and she relayed what they were saying on GMA. We were on the phone when the second plane hit as the GMA camera captured it live. I’ll never forget the sound in her voice as she reacted to what she saw. Because the Trade Center had been attacked, we were concerned something would happen to the banks as well. I remembered being grateful for living in a suburb of a minor city because it would hopefully mean we would not be attacked too. I remember praying for my brother and his family who were stationed overseas. Most of all, I remember praying that the worst was over.

It wasn’t. We had a tv in the break room and we kept taking turns going back to watch it. I think there was a radio too, but it was all a blur of confusion and fear. I was on the phone with my mom when the towers fell. As terrifying and heartbreaking as it was, there was something so comforting about experiencing this with her. I remembered I couldn’t wait for the bank to close that afternoon so I could go home and be with my family. Once we were all home, we just sat there all evening moving back and forth between sorrow, outrage and uncertainty.

To this day, I am still in awe of the bravery of those who voluntarily entered those hellish buildings to save lives and sacrificed their own in the process. I am proud that evil did NOT win, that we did NOT stop living and fighting for our lives! May God bless the families and loved ones of those who were lost that day and who died fighting to keep us safe before and after those cowardly attacks. May He also bless those brave individuals who currently serve to protect us. May we never forget the lives lost and lessons learned on September 11, 2001.

Quiet

A very insightful friend of mine once mentioned (forgive me for not remembering the exact wording; it was several years ago), “I need to go out and be active (i.e. workout/train) every day, but you – perhaps you need to be quiet some every day.” She didn’t mean that I was loud or shouldn’t talk. (At least I don’t think she did. If she did, well, then I spent the past few years incorporating something into my life that was based on miscommunication. Either way, it’s been a change for the better.) She was referring to the fact that I am a very energetic person (some might say hyper) and am always on the go, so much that I often feel a little out-of-control and unsure of where I'm going or how to stop myself. My mind constantly races with ideas, reminders, possibilities, concerns and just random thoughts that pop up here and there (that’s what happens when you’re a linear thinker).

I've spent the past few years trying to make a practice of having "quiet time" everyday. I love my quiet time!! I do it in the morning, when everything is quiet and still and there aren’t as many distractions. It started out with just some deep breathing and relaxation, but in the past two years or so it’s become more of a time for Bible study, journaling and prayer. It has developed into my own personal one-on-one time with God and I treasure it deeply. I love starting my day in this manner and feel out-of-sorts whenever I’m not able to do so (usually due to poor planning on my part).

As I’ve gotten caught up in work responsibilities, I’ve neglected to set aside time every morning and spend it with God, and it has shown in every aspect of my life! But God, in His amazing, all-knowing glory, blesses me with an opportunity to have some quiet time every day, despite my poor planning and disobedience. My commute to work every morning includes a 20-minute drive along the edge of an Army post. It’s considered a “dead zone” because it’s nearly impossible to receive cell phone signals in that area and radio stations get fuzzy and distorted. When I’m on this road, I cannot talk on my cell phone, text or listen to the radio. Sometimes it’s nothing but silence. Sometimes I map out the day’s schedule in my head and am able to prioritize items on my ever-growing list of things to do (this is usually very difficult for me). Sometimes He places people and inspirations on my heart. Sometimes I worship. Sometimes I complain. But it’s quiet time and I am grateful for it.