Spirit-Led Woman

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wounded soldier
( © Timothy_Wang (iStockphoto.com))
Make a bit of room in your day for the remembering, for the grieving, for the praying.
America, we are all praying for you and loving you today.
How has it been 12 years since we all beheld the sight of towers crumbling, planes against a blue sky, unflappable news man Peter Jennings unable to speak? I am remembering my horror—true shrieking, innocent horror, hands to my mouth, crying for days—as people flung themselves out of tall buildings rather than remain inside to be burned alive.
Do you remember the posters that went up all over Manhattan of the missing? I am remembering people covered in blood and dust, the terror and agony we all felt. I am remembering the weeping and the mourning all across the world, how we were all Americans that day. I was in the United States at that time of my life, just a 3-month newlywed, and I remember the patriotism, the giving, the love, the deep sadness and even, yes, the anger, the rage and need for revenge.
I won’t ever forget it. We’ve grown jaded and suspicious, sardonic and pragmatic, but on that day, we felt it all, and we were changed.
Today I’m grieving for every child that has grown up without a parent, every mother who buried her child, every person with nightmares and pain and fear, every person wounded in their body, their mind and their heart as a result of that day.
I’m also remembering the worldwide military and their families. Those that serve and serve and serve, those who are wounded emotionally and physically, those who lost their lives. I am remembering them far away from their families, struggling and battling, keeping watching with courage and bravery I can only imagine.
I’m remembering the thousands and thousands Iraqi and Afghani citizens who are referred to as “collateral damage” from the fallout afterwards. Remember the children growing up without parents, the mothers who buried their children, the twisted bodies in the sandy streets and hate-filled mobs screaming for never-ending violence.
I’m remembering the purple forefingers of first-time voters and the girls with disfigured faces from acid attacks because they dared to go to school. Oh, don’t forget the aid workers, the ministers and the brave ones who stand against tyranny from within in a million small ways.
Today is a day to remember them all. Make a bit of space for God today. Make a bit of space to remember and to grieve and to pray. Our world could use a bit of peacemaking.
Maranatha again.
Come, Lord Jesus.
Kyrie eleison again.
Christ, have mercy.
Sarah Bessey is a wife, mama of three tinies, a writer, a popular blogger and a happy-clappy Jesus lover. She lives in Abbotsford, British Columbia. Her first book, Jesus Feminist (Howard Books), will be released in November.

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