It’s been 13 years since the attack on our homeland. I remember the day as if it were yesterday. My husband was at work. My kids had gone to school. I was home alone. I turned on the news and the pictures I saw were shocking. The towers were standing tall, smoke pouring like blood over the city. Then they fell. I was speechless. I couldn’t cry that day…it took quite a while for me to shed tears…I don’t know why. I felt very numb…angry…unable to fathom the amount of hate the terrorists must have for us to do such evil.
I had errands to run that day. We lived in Goldendale, WA…a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. As I drove the 45 minutes to the store, I felt safe. Who would want to attack a tiny town in Eastern Washington? Nevertheless, I watched the sky. I went to the post office and someone in line was talking about a cousin who worked in New York City near the towers. It occurred to me as I listened to them and prayed silently for their cousin that the tentacles of sorrow would stretch and twist and curl all through our country in a very personal way.
Life is precious…so many were lost that day. In the aftermath of war, many more have perished. This evil, this ideology of radical Islam…it still wars…whether we acknowledge it or not. That’s the thing…when one group or side wars, the war goes on. If someone is still swinging, the fight’s still on. I hate war, but I’m not so ignorant to think that we can always avoid it by playing nice. Evil doesn’t play nice. It has to be answered with justice…it must be stopped. I pray for our military and the job they have to defend and protect us from future attacks. I pray for our president…that God would give him wisdom in the decisions he makes to protect our country and our military, and the conscience to do what is right.
The LORD is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The LORD is the defense of my life; Whom shall I dread?