I Remember

On 9/11/2011, I was a 2nd Lieutenant stationed at Barksdale Air Force Base. That morning my colleagues and I stood in our Commander’s office and watched the towers fall.

Shocked. Stunned. Scared. Moments etched forever in memory.

And then the day became a blur. The base went into complete lock-down. Everyone focused with intensity on their role.
We were the secure location the President was taken to but I, personally, felt anything but secure. I felt acutely vulnerable as we braced ourselves for the further attacks we feared might be coming.

I can remember thinking that everything has changed; nothing will ever be the same.

Shortly after 9/11, I was working a deployment line filled with men and women heading to Afghanistan. It was during the first rounds of post-911 deployments. While there was a renewed sense of purpose and energy in our military community, it was also a difficult time. Families had not yet grown accustomed to war.

One moment from that deployment line will always stay with me. The large room was filled with spouses, children, and parents having final moments with loved ones in uniform. It quickly became time to end the farewells. This was my job. I walked around the room making eye contact with the airmen or tapping them on their arms. They understood that I was telling them to say their final words, give the final hug, and walk out of the room. Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones who understood. A little girl, maybe five or six-years old, watched me tap her father. She looked at me, burst into tears, and yelled, “NO!”

One week later, I found out I was pregnant. It was one of the most joy-filled moments of my life. And then I became that little girl.

NO!

No, I do not want my child born into a world where this can happen.

No, I do not want to raise my baby in a world that no longer feels safe.

No, I do not want to have to say goodbye to this little one I haven’t even met yet.

No.

But here we are – eleven years later.

And with time comes perspective.

We all still raise our babies and live our lives in a world where terrible things happen. But it’s also a world where men and women ran towards those towers to save people. A world where passengers in Flight 93 exhibited bravery that defies explanation. A world where men and women put on uniforms every day with purposes like protect and defend.

And yet, like all of us who remember that day so vividly, my heart breaks again on 9/11 each year. Because so many will never get to write the words, “eleven years later.” So many in those towers and planes never knew that they were saying final goodbyes and giving final kisses. So many, both that day and in the years of war that have followed, never came home.

Because the world, while still so beautiful, is still so changed.

What do you remember about that day? How has your world changed?

Flattery and Rejection

I’m a list maker. I write to-do lists for work, to-do lists for home, lists of things to gently and lovingly remind my husband to do, and lists of potential blog topics. Only about a quarter of the items on my blog list actually make it to the blog. Well that’s about to change! (Lucky you.) Below are the moments from this week that made my list but not my blog. They may not be individually good enough but together they are mighty.

Also, it’s been a long week; I’m too tired for segues and transitions.

1. With me, flattery will get you everywhere.

A girl in David’s second grade class told me I’m beautiful. Granted, at the time, I was holding a big plate of cookies. But, even if her motivation was VIP snack service, it made my day. And she did get the biggest cookie. And seconds. And I gave her the first juice box. (Note to men reading this: spontaneous, sincere, unsolicited flattery is your key to more than just better snacks.)

2. You are hereby honorably discharged …

This week Keith’s obligation to the Air Force officially ended. Four years after leaving active duty, he is done and can no longer be called back into service. For some people, reaching this milestone is a reason to celebrate. For Keith, even though his time in service included two long tours in Afghanistan, it was a sad day. His military service was more than a career step or a paycheck. He was an awesome officer but he’s an even better husband and father. His decision to leave the military was a hard one but it was right for our family. It was selfless of him. Isn’t that amazing?

3. “… your fingerprints have been rejected.”

My new job requires that I have my background screened. Not a big deal because, once upon a time, I held a security clearance so I’ve been checked and screened many times before. Needless to say, I was a bit surprised when I woke up to an email saying, “We have received notification from the state or FBI that your fingerprints have been rejected.” What? My pre-coffee brain took a moment to realize that I just had to retake my fingerprints because they “lacked detail.” (The lady taking my fingerprints had so kindly mentioned that my fingers were dry and hard to capture.) What three things did this email mean to me? First, the Federal Bureau of Investigation says I need to moisturize. Second, if you need anyone to rob a bank, I’m your gal. Third, I won’t start work on Monday. I’ll start … sometime … after Monday. (Have I mentioned before that I dislike vagueness?)

4. I need to start work so I can stop preparing to start work.

I am perhaps over-preparing for my reentry into full-time work. My big thing this week has been preparing and freezing meals so we can have home cooked meals despite our lack of a chef, personal shopper, or housekeeper. I bought a book with recipes and freezing techniques for cooking meals ahead of time and have been a cooking machine. I’m so impressed with my culinary preparedness! However, I’ve learned that as fascinated as I am by this process, it’s slightly less fascinating to others; my husband no longer wants to humor me by oohing and aahing over wrapped lumps of frozen food.

That was my week in a disconnected nutshell.

Coming up next week: Tips for teaching children discretion and what to do when our children choose a very public moment to have absolutely no discretion. (No, I don’t plan to start writing ‘Coming Attractions’ but, this week, it’s all part of the over-preparation from #4.)