I penned this journal entry on my way home from church this afternoon:
Today marks the ten-year anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. It has never personally affected me much; I was in the fifth grade when it happened, and I neither knew what the World Trade Center was nor knew anyone in it.
Two-and-a-half years ago, I met John. At the time, I just knew him as my mom's cousin. A year and a half later, he became Johnny. My housemate. My mother was horrified when I asked Johnny if I could live with him while I was in school. He eagerly agreed, and the last year has been the story of how we became best friends.
John was in New York City on September 11, 2001. His girlfriend died that day, and he went to fourteen funerals that month. He wasn't in the World Trade Center when it fell, but he could have been. He could have died that day.
Every magazine, it seems, published an article in their September 2011 issue that tells the story of a person who was somehow victimized by the September 11 attacks. They speak of "holding on" for loved ones; of leaving for work and coming home six months later, after a nightmare of hospitalization and physical therapy. Today, as I thank God that my best friend wasn't killed ten years ago, I think about what would happen to my loved ones if I didn't come home today. What would be unfinished? What would they tell me if they had one last chance? What would I have told them?
I wouldn't mind if I died today. I would be with Jesus, and I have lived. I would be able to repent of my abundant sins for the last time. I would leave behind the best memories, the most loving relationships, and an endless supply of "what-might-have-been"s. To most, it would seem an unfinished life. But what do I lack? I have been given everything. I have been in love. I have had my heart broken. I have played in Carnegie Hall. I have been to a ball with a prince. I have seen my artwork in a museum. I have been awed by something majestic. I have provoked tears of joy. I have seen true happiness. I have inspired others. I have helped save a life.
What else is there? Marriage? Sex? Fame and fortune? Having children? Maybe. But that's not what I live for. I live for a God who knows a beauty far greater than we could ever imagine; who loves more unconditionally than we can comprehend; who knows more of suffering than any human experience.
So by the grace of God, if I don't come home today, I don't mind. The people I love know I love them. I'm content with what I've left behind, and I have the love of Christ.
But I still thank God that Johnny came home that day.
Today marks the ten-year anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. It has never personally affected me much; I was in the fifth grade when it happened, and I neither knew what the World Trade Center was nor knew anyone in it.
Two-and-a-half years ago, I met John. At the time, I just knew him as my mom's cousin. A year and a half later, he became Johnny. My housemate. My mother was horrified when I asked Johnny if I could live with him while I was in school. He eagerly agreed, and the last year has been the story of how we became best friends.
John was in New York City on September 11, 2001. His girlfriend died that day, and he went to fourteen funerals that month. He wasn't in the World Trade Center when it fell, but he could have been. He could have died that day.
Every magazine, it seems, published an article in their September 2011 issue that tells the story of a person who was somehow victimized by the September 11 attacks. They speak of "holding on" for loved ones; of leaving for work and coming home six months later, after a nightmare of hospitalization and physical therapy. Today, as I thank God that my best friend wasn't killed ten years ago, I think about what would happen to my loved ones if I didn't come home today. What would be unfinished? What would they tell me if they had one last chance? What would I have told them?
I wouldn't mind if I died today. I would be with Jesus, and I have lived. I would be able to repent of my abundant sins for the last time. I would leave behind the best memories, the most loving relationships, and an endless supply of "what-might-have-been"s. To most, it would seem an unfinished life. But what do I lack? I have been given everything. I have been in love. I have had my heart broken. I have played in Carnegie Hall. I have been to a ball with a prince. I have seen my artwork in a museum. I have been awed by something majestic. I have provoked tears of joy. I have seen true happiness. I have inspired others. I have helped save a life.
What else is there? Marriage? Sex? Fame and fortune? Having children? Maybe. But that's not what I live for. I live for a God who knows a beauty far greater than we could ever imagine; who loves more unconditionally than we can comprehend; who knows more of suffering than any human experience.
So by the grace of God, if I don't come home today, I don't mind. The people I love know I love them. I'm content with what I've left behind, and I have the love of Christ.
But I still thank God that Johnny came home that day.
I'm completely with you, Girl!! I felt the same way the day I found out I had cancer. I had lived a much longer life than you, but I was ready to go, if that was God's design! Gratitude, contentment, and a solid faith in God's design for your life result in such a God-honoring attitude! I'm thankful that you have realized this at such a young age!!
ReplyDeleteBrilliant post! Amen to the last part! So thankful to have life in Christ - abundant life, both in this world and in the one to come. Death is ugly, and it's right to grieve - knowing that this world is broken and it shouldn't be this way. But what a comfort and a joy to know that our Risen Savior has defeated that vicious enemy and we need not fear it!
ReplyDeleteYour perspective is thought-provoking to me. My children's experience is similar to your own -- too young at the time to fully take in the weight of what happened and why it was so significant. Since they are all even younger than you, they really don't know what a pre-9/11 world was like.