We all know today is 9/11. I'm not going to post a politically charged diatribe, or a heartwarming story about our soldiers giving their lives for our freedom. Not that those things aren't important. Oh, my, they are SO important. But they are all over the internet. (And if you don't get yet how much that all means, I suggest you spend some time web-surfing today and find out.)
I thought I'd share with you, though, what was happening with me personally on that day. You see, my husband was on a plane headed to California. No, thank God with every fiber of my being, NOT one of the ones that got hijacked.
But it could have been. I mean, there wasn't anything different about the plane he was on than the ones that got hijacked. His left at the same time they did. His was headed to the same destination.
I was outside, working in the flower beds, when my sister-in-law called. Frantic. "Have you heard from Jeff????????"
I had no idea what was going on. She told me. I ran in the house and turned on the news.
And freaked out.
Called Jeff's boss's wife, since Jeff and his boss were traveling together. She hadn't heard from him either. We stayed on the phone together most of the morning, glued to the TV. Watching. Waiting.
Finally, after a couple of hours she got a call from her husband. I had to wait a few minutes to hear from Jeff because his phone was in his boss's car and he had to use his boss's phone. They had emergency landed in Dallas, and were renting a car to drive home.
The word relief gained new meaning for me that day.
I feel for the families that lost loved ones. I could have so easily been one of them. So while I fully understand all the political implications of 9/11, and I thank God for the soldiers out there fighting for our freedom, this day is personal for me. I could have lost my true love. I wouldn't have my daughter right now. Everything about my life would be different.
I learned I am not untouchable. None of us are.