(Picture courtesy of telachhe at flickr.com.)
It’s amazing that we have a celebration going on all day of something that was used to justify going to war with an uninvolved country. That’s one of two things I have to say about this day.
The other one is something that warmed my heart.
As the footage of the horrors unfolded on September 11, 2001, were occurring across the country on our t.v. sets, a family near me was watching. The family in the living room that morning consisted of my friend, a gentle retired school teacher, her sister and four-year-old son. The events were disturbing, but the adults didn’t want to make it more remarkable by switching off the set.
The child had been playing at something, grew ever more still and watchful of the on unfolding reality and its weighty impact. Finally, he rose and went quietly back to his bedroom, and could be heard moving about there. The sisters quietly agreed to let him take his time, and let his thoughts come out naturally.
After a few minutes, the child walked into the living room with a backpack, all full of something, shouldered and with shoes on.
“I’m ready,” he announced.
The sisters asked him what he was ready to do?
“Go save people,” he replied evenly.