I saved this paper from Jakob's birthday.
Nine years ago on September 11th, I was in Scottsbluff with two little boys, pregnant with the third and scrambling to get things packed up to get on the road back to Lincoln.  Tim was out of town, which was why we hopped in the van in the first place to spend some time with Grandma and Grandpa.  While we were preparing breakfast, the TV was on with footage of a plane flying into the World Trade Center.  From that moment on we were sucked into the news coverage, wondering what in the world was going on. 

The boys and I packed up and started home to Lincoln, listening to the news, becoming more and more scared every mile of what was happening in and to our nation.  I began to feel scared for Tim who was traveling and for his brother who was also flying or supposed to be flying. 

As the days after this brutal attack unfolded, I found myself trying to carefully explain to the boys what was happening.  It seemed inevitable that they would see or hear something about it.  It's not easy to tell a three year old and a one and a half year old that terrorists attacked our country and killed many people and that no one was sure what our future would hold.  "Really bad people flew an airplane into a big building and hurt lots of people.  It was really naughty and it has made a lot of people really sad."  We prayed a lot for the "hurt" (dead) and their families.  For the firefighters, for our leaders, and for our nation.  I found comfort in knowing that I answer to God, and whatever would happen, I wasn't scared of my eternal future. 

I remember feeling like I just wanted everything to return to normal after every media reporting the attack for weeks.  It hasn't gone away, it's just been pushed back a little.  We still pray for those whose lives were lost.  We still pray for our leaders to make good decisions to protect our freedom.  And we pray and thank God for all of the brave men and women who fight every day to protect our nation's freedom.