My parents, QB, Red, and I went to the George W. Bush Presidential Library this week. We'd been wanting to go visit the new library and museum since it first opened over two years ago. Unfortunately, the timing was never quite right until this trip back home.
Boy, was it worth the wait! On the heels of one of the most contentous elections in recent history, plus, just having finished teaching a co-op class all about the election process, I was very excited to see what the library/museum had to offer. I'd heard it was very hands-on and a lot of fun!. It did not disappoint.
I knew there was a 9/11 memorial at the Bush Library. I knew there was a portion of the building. I attempted to prepare myself for what I might feel.
Similar to my parent's generation when Kennedy was assassinated, so many people remember every little thing about September 11th; where they were when they heard the news, who they called first, did they choose to tell their children, how they felt when they heard the news.
9/11 happened before my children were born, but every year (since I felt they were old enough to understand) I tell them my story. Where I was when I heard the news, how it madI e me feel being so far away from New York. I tell them how my cousin, an officer in the Air Force, was in the Pentagon that day; he was safe on the opposite side that was hit. I share with them how unilaterally terrified the United States were that day and for weeks to come.
We enter the 9/11 memorial exhibit in the Bush Library. Front and center, the very first thing you see, are the twisted beams from one of the towers. The docent told us they did not know which tower they were from, but they were from a top portion of the one of the towers...and that we could touch them. I stood there looking at the mangled beams and all the feelings I had from those days. All the images from the news footage, all the interviews and pictures. The terror and anguish. All those that died. All those that chipped in to help. Everything.
I was frozen in place. I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. The feel of this space was somber, respectful. That same feeling of sharing the same feelings with strangers returned. As I felt my eyes begin to sting, I just kept staring at the beams. I wanted to reach out and touch a piece a devastating history, but I couldn't. It felt wrong; disrespectful somehow.
I caught my daughter, Red, out of the corner of my eye. She, too, was frozen. She asked me about all the names on the wall. I was so taken aback by the piece of the tower that I missed them. There they were, though. The name of every single person who lost their life that day. Organized neatly by their place of death...North Tower, South Tower, Pentagon, United Flight 175, American Airlines Flight 11, American Airlines Flight 77, United Flight 93...over 3,000 innocent people. My daughter looked at me with confused eyes saying, "All those people died?" All I could muster was, "Yes. It was horrible."
9/11 will always be remembered as a truly horrendous day in American history for many reasons. Everyone has a story. My family was lucky that day. My cousin was safe. There were thousands of families that weren't so lucky. So many families lost loved ones. I am blessed to have had the chance to visit this memorial at the Bush Library. I am blessed to have had the opportunity to share this with my kiddos, even though it was painful and may have been uncomfortable. Life is messy. Life is uncomfortable. If we weather these things together, with the Lord's help, we will grow stronger together, as well.
Hug your kids, y'all...
Boy, was it worth the wait! On the heels of one of the most contentous elections in recent history, plus, just having finished teaching a co-op class all about the election process, I was very excited to see what the library/museum had to offer. I'd heard it was very hands-on and a lot of fun!. It did not disappoint.
I knew there was a 9/11 memorial at the Bush Library. I knew there was a portion of the building. I attempted to prepare myself for what I might feel.
Similar to my parent's generation when Kennedy was assassinated, so many people remember every little thing about September 11th; where they were when they heard the news, who they called first, did they choose to tell their children, how they felt when they heard the news.
9/11 happened before my children were born, but every year (since I felt they were old enough to understand) I tell them my story. Where I was when I heard the news, how it madI e me feel being so far away from New York. I tell them how my cousin, an officer in the Air Force, was in the Pentagon that day; he was safe on the opposite side that was hit. I share with them how unilaterally terrified the United States were that day and for weeks to come.
We enter the 9/11 memorial exhibit in the Bush Library. Front and center, the very first thing you see, are the twisted beams from one of the towers. The docent told us they did not know which tower they were from, but they were from a top portion of the one of the towers...and that we could touch them. I stood there looking at the mangled beams and all the feelings I had from those days. All the images from the news footage, all the interviews and pictures. The terror and anguish. All those that died. All those that chipped in to help. Everything.
I was frozen in place. I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. The feel of this space was somber, respectful. That same feeling of sharing the same feelings with strangers returned. As I felt my eyes begin to sting, I just kept staring at the beams. I wanted to reach out and touch a piece a devastating history, but I couldn't. It felt wrong; disrespectful somehow.
I caught my daughter, Red, out of the corner of my eye. She, too, was frozen. She asked me about all the names on the wall. I was so taken aback by the piece of the tower that I missed them. There they were, though. The name of every single person who lost their life that day. Organized neatly by their place of death...North Tower, South Tower, Pentagon, United Flight 175, American Airlines Flight 11, American Airlines Flight 77, United Flight 93...over 3,000 innocent people. My daughter looked at me with confused eyes saying, "All those people died?" All I could muster was, "Yes. It was horrible."
9/11 will always be remembered as a truly horrendous day in American history for many reasons. Everyone has a story. My family was lucky that day. My cousin was safe. There were thousands of families that weren't so lucky. So many families lost loved ones. I am blessed to have had the chance to visit this memorial at the Bush Library. I am blessed to have had the opportunity to share this with my kiddos, even though it was painful and may have been uncomfortable. Life is messy. Life is uncomfortable. If we weather these things together, with the Lord's help, we will grow stronger together, as well.
Hug your kids, y'all...