It’s Been 11 Years since 9/11

Dear Readers:
I would like to be completely honest with you. Are you ready? Are you sitting down? What I am about to say may shock you. You may never want to read my blog again, but that’s the risk I’m willing to take.

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I can be downright rotten sometimes. I can be selfish. I can say really stupid things. I mean, really stupid things. I can want what I want, when I want it. I can complain and grumble. I am in a category of ridiculous humanism all by myself. (Or maybe I have a few compadre’s out there who occasionally join me.)

This morning, God-in his infinite glory-snapped my selfish, grumbling, complaining, humanistic bubble this morning using none other than my husband. Biceps, the firefighter, was getting ready to leave for work and asked, “Today is the 11th anniversary of 9/11. What are you doing today?”

May I repeat, my husband-the firefighter, said this to me-the whiner.

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As I get ready to go to my Bible Study, make my phone calls, clean the house, and go about my day-this little question Biceps asked me will be gnawing at the back of my brain-”What am I doing today?”. Does it matter what I’m doing today?

What mattered to me, 11 years ago, was not my job (or lack thereof), not my blog, not my latest recipe. What mattered to me was only:
How many people survived?
Did my friend’s daughter make it to work that day in the Trade Center? Did she survive?
How many kids won’t have parent’s after today? And, how many parent’s won’t have kids after today?
What can I do? How can I help? WHAT CAN I DO?!

Instead of me, me, me, I was worried about everyone other than me. I was worried about people I didn’t even know, about the firefighters, the pilots, the passengers, the workers.

It’s ironic that I start my Bible Study Fellowship class today. God, once again-in his infinite glory-keeps this little whiner in check.

There. I hope I didn’t scare you off by revealing my ugly, selfish, whining side. I know, it’s disgusting. Please forgive me.

A Tattered Bible, A Healthy Soul

My BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) leader often said that “a woman whose Bible is falling apart, isn’t.”

I loved this thought, mainly because my Bible is in shambles and I can’t bear to get a new one.

I mean look at it. I am kind of embarrassed when I tote this around and see fancy new Bibles with tabs, maps and concordances.

My parents bought this for me in 1995 right before I left for college. I was going through a huge emerald green phase due to the fact that it was my birthstone, and I had only recently discovered this fact. I asked for all things green that year for my birthday.

 

It has seen two colleges, four changed majors, one graduation, a first apartment, one broken engagement, two European trips, one marriage that is still going, three cats and 17 years.

How do you get rid of something like that?

Before too long, every word in this book will be underlined, highlighted and starred. Eventually, I may have to recover it.

As this book starts to look worn out, it’s owner becomes more and more full of life. This woman, whose Bible is falling apart, isn’t. Amen to that.