I haven't written anything for a week now. I haven't known how to put my feelings into words. I think today I would like to try.
A week ago (has it really been just a week?) some inherently evil men put into action a plan that ripped from this world many of my fellow Americans (as well as people from other countries). In doing so they also tried to break us apart, thankfully that has failed. But just as there is a gaping wound in the New York City skyline, many people, including myself, have a gaping wound in their hearts and on their souls. I hurt. You know when you hear the term heart ache? Well my heart physically aches for what has happened. For those people who are mourning loved ones. For those people whose loved ones are still missing and who still hold out hope that a miracle will occur. It aches for those rescue workers who have to face horror that no one should have to face. My heart aches and it aches deeply. It aches for my children and the trials that they may have to face and the world that they will grow up in. Will they, now, ever know a world without war? Without hate?
This may sound weird but I think that I may be suffering from "survivors guilt". Isn't that weird? I know I have to go on with my life, but I feel guilty knowing that my life, right now, was only minimally impacted by this event in comparison to those who lost loved ones or those who actually were there and made it out alive. I feel guilty that I can watch what is going on across the country on television in the (now relative) safety of my own home. I feel guilty that I have a home. That I live where I live. I feel guilt and I feel pain. And another emotion has come to the surface, fear.
Fear. We live in a state that will be hosting the Olympics next February. That in itself does not bring much fear. But I do fear the talk of Chemical Warfare. The talk of Biological Warfare. Our state has a place where they incinerate chemical weapons. Could that be a target if we go to war? Fear. On the news they talk about "cells" of terrorists that may still be in the United States, sitting in an apartment with a vial of Anthrax. Fear. I fear for my father in law. He may be called out of retirement to go and fight on the front lines of this war. I fear for two of my brother's in law for they have military background as well. Fear. I fear for my husband. We went to the park on Saturday and as I watched him I noticed just how much he looks like a Middle Easterner. Just as there were evil individuals out there who wanted to do us, as a nation, harm there are individuals in this country who, now, would take it upon themselves to harm those of Middle Eastern descent. What worries me is that if they are angry enough to try and hurt someone who looks Middle Eastern they aren't going to stop and find out if that person is actually Middle Eastern...they will just lash out. Will someone decide that my husband looks enough like a Pakistani that he needs to be hurt or even killed? Fear.
I am trying to work through these emotions. Trying to get past the fear because if I can't or if I wont then those terrorists have already won. And I refuse to let them win. The first line of this song keeps going through my head...."This is my Country! Land of the Free." This is MY country and I love it with all that is in me. I refuse to let hate and evil try to dictate to me how I should act or how I should feel. So I go on. I move on with my life. I get up and do laundry and clean my house and most importantly I teach my children. I teach them NOT to hate. I teach them to LOVE and I let them know that they are loved. Loved beyond measure...just as all those people who lost their lives last week are loved.
That love will not end. Nothing can break that love. No evil. No hate. No matter how strong they think they are. My love for my Lord, my family and my country will not die. No matter what the future may hold I will cling to that love, bury it deep in my heart and in my soul and with that love, and time, hopefully the gaping wound that was made on September 11, 2001 will heal.
