9/11

Ten years ago I was woken by a phone call from my father alerting me that America was under attack by terrorists. That a plane had taken down the World Trade Centers, hit the pentagon and a fourth plane in Pennsylvania.

I turned on the tv, anxious to take in more information. I sat on that couch where I had been sleeping for the last few weeks still in my pajamas and poured over everything that Katie Couric was saying. I couldn't imagine what this meant for my country, nor what it would still mean 10 years later.

It was just two weeks prior that I had gotten on a plane from Richmond for my new home and new normal in Texas. I was working at Target and had classes at Tarrant County. I didn't know many people in this strange place. At the time my mom was still in Richmond while our house there was on the market. I thought about my mom. I thought about those families in New York, Washington, and around the world. I questioned what this would mean for us, our country and our future.

I was fearful for more, a flash of memories from apocalyptic stories that were taught in my church classes from the time I was little. The future seemed so uncertain. I wasn't sure what my future looked like. And looking back I remember wondering if all I have now would even be possible.

I felt so alone in the first months (and sometimes years) after 9/11. I didn't have any friends. I had just left the only life I had ever known and America had just been attacked. I had nothing to cling to except for hope. Hope for healing and for comfort.

Ten years later and I can't put into words how thankful I am for those that rose up after 9/11 and fought back and ensured our freedoms. Those that are still fighting so that my children can have the same kind of life that I have been blessed to have.

We are all so thankful.