Today I was going to write a cute little post about Barbies and then I turned on my computer and saw a comment waiting from Nancy. (She is one of those 3 fans I mentioned yesterday, that missed my absence in the blogging world.) I popped over to Nancy's place and saw that she had written about September 11 and she was encouraging everyone to write down their memories of that day.
We all share those moments that stand still in time rather than blur into one another as so many of our days, months and years do. Nancy describes the day JFK was shot down to the detail of the chicken salad sandwhich her mother served while they watched it unfold on television. I remember being in the library in middle school when the space shuttle Challenger blew up. I can picture the very moment, the curve on the street, the dashboard of my car, the lunch I just ate, when I turned on the radio to hear the announcement that the federal building in my home state of Oklahoma had just been bombed.
On September 11, 2001 my first born was in his first week of a Mother's Day Out program at church. I was 8 months pregnant with my daughter and was in the car headed home to prepare the nursery. My husband had driven to Arkansas on business for the week. Again it was the radio that informed me of the initial plane crash. By the time I arrived home and turned on the TV it was clear that America had been changed forever. Everything was quiet that day. I picked up my son from church along with dozens of other dazed families. No one knew what to say or do. I remember long lines at the gas station over the next couple days. Like everyone else I watched endless television until I could only wander to bed wondering "What kind of world are my children going to live in?"
Last year my husband and I went on a 4 day trip to NYC. We had a fabulous time touring the city and all the neighborhoods and landmarks. We went to the World Trade Center Site. The most touching thing I saw was the St. Paul's Chapel. It is Manhattan's oldest public building. A place where George Washington worshipped. It is a beautiful old church building surrounded by a gated cemetery. It is a striking picture in the middle of NYC's financial district and sat in the shadow of the twin towers. It received almost no damage from the collapse of the towers and served as a haven around the clock for rescue workers. Part of the church is an exhibit about those terrible days, showcasing photos, flags, firefighters helmets, banners and notes from around the country. Across one wall was a huge banner from the state of Oklahoma that brought tears to my eyes.
Today, 9 years later, my neighborhood is having a community garage sale, we are headed to a child's pizza party this evening and right now I sit and type whatever thoughts are in my head on a blog. Life goes on. There are dates and times, moments and places we all remember. Some we share such as September 11, others hold personal significance and pass unnoticed to others.
We are beginning a study at church called the Imitation of Christ. This week we began by describing moments in life and how they mark our lives and measure time. We read Max Lucado's words about a most remarkable moment.
"It all happened in a moment, a most remarkable moment. As moments go, that one appeared no different than any other. If you could somehow pick it up off the timeline and examine it, it would look exactly like the ones that have passed while you have read these words. It came and it went. It was preceded and succeeded by others just like it... But in reality, that particular moment was like none other. For through that segment of time a spectacular thing occurred. God became man. While the creatures of earth walked unaware. Divinity arrived."
I love that description and it speaks to the humility of God, arriving quietly and without fanfare. So much of what the Bible describes of Christ are little moments, details, the way he spoke or touched someone, the quiet way in which he preformed even miraculous events.
Obviously big moments stick with us and shape our lives but I keep telling myself to remember those little moments too. The little details that make up our lives in between the big stuff. That's one of the reasons so many women blog, or journal or scrapbook - to record the little things before they vanish in the blur of life. I think the artists ability to capture the little details is what makes the big picture beautiful and significant. So it is with life.