Where were you?

I bet you remember where you were and what you were doing eight years ago today. I know I do. I was in bed when my friend called and told me to turn on the TV. At first I didn't understand what was going on, and when I saw the second plane hit the other tower, I had no idea that I had just witnessed a live attack on my country...I thought it was a replay. Then we did what we always do. Our First Responders ran INTO a burning tower while others ran out. They risk their lives everyday on the job....I wonder how many of them thought this would be their last act of bravery, heroics, and compassion. Then, I watched, in stunned silence as the towers crumbled and fell. As that eruption of cement dust rolled through the streets of downtown New York, cover everything in it's path. That's when you saw the faces of the tragedy, running. They had escaped with their lives once already that day, and they were running again. I was pregnant with my third child then, she would be born 31 days later. I cried for the innocence lost to her, before she'd ever experienced her first breath. I worried about what kind of world this precious child would be born into. For a single moment, and for the first time in my life, I regretted being pregnant...how could I shield her from such a world...a world that had changed in the blink of an eye? That regret faded quickly and different things around me gave me strength and courage to put those worries aside and just trust God, so I did, and we didn't stop with that child, we added one more. I remember sitting in front of the news station for hours on end, waiting for, hoping for a miracle, for them to find survivors. I printed off updates and lists. I have hand written notes of noises they heard, clues they found, and miracles that they hoped for. I couldn't leave because I felt like I was abandoning hope. I still stop when I hear an airplane over head. I wait and listen to make sure that it's passed safely by. It was remarkable how quiet the skies were for four days. My heart swells with humbled pride when I think of the good that came out of that day. The patriotism that exploded across our country so quickly. Nearly every home had a flag flying out front. Cars were decorated with our colors. Songs were written and dedicated to those whose lives were prematurely snuffed out. Do you remember Congress standing together and singing God Bless America? I remember the need to do something, and I wasn't the only one who felt it. Lines snaked for blocks around blood banks with people who just needed to give. Friends and families got together just to be together. Congregations met to share their burdens and bring peace and comfort to their members. In a way that nothing else could do, that terrible day solidified our citizens. I think many stepped back and looked at what was truly important in their lives, I know I did. So, where were you that day? How has it changed you?