Today marks the 25th anniversary of the terrorist attacks that took place on September 11, 2001.
As I sit here recalling that day, tears stream down my face. I can vividly remember where I was, who was around me, the emotions I felt. All of it. I was the exact age my daughter is now. And for some reason, that hits hard.
I was lucky in that no one I knew was personally affected. Being from a small town in Georgia, NYC seemed like a whole other world most of the time.
But not that day. That day, my heart ached for every single person in those buildings, every person jumping or falling to their death, every person trapped inside, every family member hearing the news and not knowing if their loved one was safe.
That day, New York wasn’t so far away. We were one. These people were fellow Americans, and we were under attack. All of us.
I distinctly remember the horror I felt. My entire class (second period History class, as ironic as that seems now) watched the television in stunned silence as the news channel covered what had happened earlier that morning.
No one said a word. The rest of the day passed in a blur for me. I don’t remember what happened after second period or where I went. I can’t even recall if I stayed at school or went home.
But what I do remember is being terrified of what might happen next. Would someone target Atlanta? Were my friends and I safe at school? Was my family safe?
Terror, sadness, and confusion washed over me in waves, as I’m sure it did for anyone else who experienced that day in one way or another. But then something amazing happened.
The days following 9/11 were the most patriotic I’ve ever witnessed. There was no right or left, no specific race or another. We were all just…Americans. Communities came together to pray. People flocked to churches. Strangers poured resources and manpower into helping those in need. It was a different time. We loved each other and we sought out God.
There’s never been another time like it since then in this country.
Whatever you believe about 9/11, why or how it really happened, there’s one thing you can’t deny: lives were lost. Families were impacted in the most awful ways. So, today, I’m taking a moment to pause and pray for everyone who was affected by this horrible evil.
I’m also praying for our country, for a revival like we’ve never seen before. A move of God that can only be explained as miraculous.
But there’s something else crossing my mind as I type this. What can you and I do? In our daily lives, how can we both honor the victims of 9/11 and their families while bringing change to our nation?
I think it comes down to this: love your family. Change starts at home. You or I might never preach a sermon that reaches thousands of people or start an organization that rescues hundreds of children from trafficking, but we can impact one person. One community.
And that begins with being faithful right where we are.
So, on this day especially, I choose to love and disciple my children, respect and honor my husband, take care of my home and the things the Lord has blessed me with, serve my church in the ways He’s called me to, and speak truth into my circle of influence, whether that’s 10 people or 1,000.
We all have influence, whether we realize it or not. Your social media friends, your real-life friends and family, your kids’ friends and their parents, and on and on. What will you do with that influence?
Me? I choose right now to be kind. To show up for those around me who have a need. To be obedient to God in every area of my life. And to boldly step out in faith to pursue the calling He’s placed on me.
Because that’s how you impact the world. One step at a time.
