It is a day that we all wish we could forget, but we cannot. We wish it had never happened, but it did. History changed 6 years ago today. Even now, we still grapple with the enormity of what happened that day. The images will not ever be erased from our memories. For me, this year, I feel quiet…a reverent kind of quiet that mourns but does not weep. The weeping has past. The nightmares are over…at least for me. I am sure that the families still have them. They remember the phone calls and the numb days of horror following. Wondering, walking and waiting for some word from their father or brother or daughter. Knowing that they were not coming home but hoping anyway.
Hope. It is a word, which causes us to keep moving. Maybe…it could be…might…someday…in the future. Words that show us hope is still alive, the flame still burning. For our country, hope calls to us, inviting us to a bright future free from terrorist threats. It reminds us not to forget the loss of the innocent as we pursue the future. Finding our way back to innocence is not possible, but hope says we can overcome the thief that took it away. We can trust that God is bigger than it all, and that with him hope springs eternal. He is the spark of hope within us that never dies. He urges us to move forward into his plans and purposes. The day…we will never forget. The spark of hope for the future, we will carry with us always.