I'm not going to say much about the tragic events of September 11th because enough has been said today and in far better words than I could say it. I will say that I did appreciate the Ground Zero ceremony's choice of words because they included two of my favorite writers: God (via some awesome messengers) and Paul Simon (can we talk about that version of sound of silence? Well, not here, I will get way too far off track, but let's talk sometime, ok?). The best part was that they did not spin the words in a way that made our country some kind of an idol, either, as I half expected. In fact, their word choice even made America and all that we know seem fleeting and that God is really all there is. Which I completely agree with, I just didn't expect to hear it on a nationally televised broadcast that incorporated a lot of politicians.
But that's enough about that. What I am going to say is how September 11th, like all major events in history that make you remember where you were at the moment they occurred/you found out, made me think about my growth through time and what that means to my "next phase in life." Basically, this post is a pretty self-centered take on 9/11.
10 years ago around 8:30 in the morning I awoke for the first ever "late arrival day" at my high school in one of my first weeks at that very high-school as I was a freshman. I was so young that I was at the stage where I woke up, got some cereal, turned on the TV, heard "a plane has been hijacked" and thought, "boring" so I changed the channel to my usual pokemon. That's right. I ate cereal and watched Pokemon when I was a little freshmen. Heck, I'd probably do that now if I weren't addicted to facebook and spent all my cereal time on that every day. Also, I'd have to find a channel with classic pokemon which could prove difficult. Again, I'm off track.
10 years ago I sat outside on a beautiful and clear Tuesday morning in size 1 incredibly faded jeans with a belt covered in silver glitter and an extra small juniors baby blue tank top (after watching pokemon, too. I was a freshman, don't judge me) waiting for the bus, thinking about life. At that point, my concerns revolved around getting into the latest play and getting good grades for some far off dream of college and eventually teaching special ed. I knew naught the details. I probably meditated on the latest note my best friend, Brittany had written me, thinking only of my small circle of friends I had known since elementary/middle school. I lived a world with fewer restrictions. A world that didn't require me to know what anthrax or bio-terrorism was. I lived in an America without the Patriot Act, without a department of homeland security. I went to a high school where, when people considered joining the military, they didn't have to consider that they could be immediately entering into an ongoing and active war.
Imagine if that me had awoken in my body this morning. It would have found itself in a strange apartment in Millbury, Massachusetts. In fact, it would have found itself on the floor of said apartment on an air mattress sleeping next to three people who would have been strangers (rather than close friends who I was incredibly glad to finally get together with). That version of myself would find itself wearing a sweatshirt from a college I had not heard of or considered, but had since graduated from. It would have found itself on eastern time instead of central, revisiting the events of 9/11 on TV right in time with when they occurred. It would have considered New York City a strange and frightening place and would be shocked to learn it had already been there... thrice, and was expecting to travel there again tomorrow. That me would have no idea what Applied Behavior Analysis was, let alone believe that, in only ten years had not only graduated from highschool, chosen a college and graduated from it, but would have also nearly achieved a master's degree in a field it had never heard of.
That me would be shocked to see all the scars on my body and wonder where they came from, as well wonder how I was wearing pants 4 sizes bigger and bras with a cup size 5 sizes bigger. That me had never really been interested in a boy aside from socially "crushing" to be cool. That me would know nothing of the kind of work I do. That me couldn't have told you really Jesus was, why I needed Him, or really explain why He was my savior. That me couldn't name a favorite bible passage. And, get ready for this: that me would wonder why in the hell there are 20 Bob Dylan albums in my car. That's right, 10 years ago, I thought Bob Dylan was lame. And THAT, my friends, is how much changes in 10 years. Especially 10 years of adolescence. Granted, the next ten will probably be a bit calmer but I think I will still find that when I wake up for the 20th reunion of September 11th, I will be waking up in a completely different place- professionally, personally, spiritually, geographically.
I worry so much about my next phase in life- worry that I have to get somewhere, become something. And of course, I must pray and focus my efforts but I shouldn't worry so much because time changes things to a ridiculous degree. I have no doubt that 10 years from now, I will wake up with just as many blessings as these ten years have brought me, if not more, and wonder (no matter how much I focus and pray and write and however many weeks I dedicate) how I got there.
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