||I meant to post this like a week ago-sorry for the delay!||
The stained glass window had my eyes locked. It was beautiful. I sat in the pew and prayed a silent prayer for each and every person who lost their life on that day and for each and every person in whom those lost lives affected. My heart started to pound for the thirteen year old boy growing up without his daddy, the widow, and the husband raising four kids alone. My heart ached for the grandmother who lost her grandchild and the mother who lost her daughter. I drew in short breaths and settled into my Daddy’s arms. Something about justice resonated in my soul as I closed my eyes once again.
The church was mostly quiet, besides the clicks from cameras and the hushed chatter from smiling tourists. My heart squeezed inside of my chest. A feeling came over me that I don’t know how to describe other than pride for my country and I reveled in the feeling of being so blessed to be an American. Relief washed over me as I realized, “I’m home.”
Transition from the race, I’m told, looks different for everyone. For me it looks like visiting Ground 0 the first day I’m home and remembering the sacrifices made on behalf of me, by people I don’t even know, in order to live free.
“Are you ready?” I asked. Slowly, the girls and I stood up and exited the church. I made my way out to the lawn and looked up to see headstones. Apparently many note-worthy people are buried here in this cemetery in the middle of the city. It was normal, I suppose. But as I scanned the lawn, my eyes settled on a slender young woman, dressed in black from head to toe, sitting on a bench. Heels and all, she “looked” every bit like New York with her slender frame and flawless face. I looked at her and realized something interesting. She wasn’t there visiting, she was reading a book. I couldn’t help but see that this was her refuge. A church cemetery, in the middle of the hustle and bustle of New York City, this woman was finding solace, she was finding rest. Beautiful, I thought.
Suddenly, I felt it. Raindrops started settling on my skin. It was a light rain, but steady enough. It didn’t surprise me…it felt like rain all day and it had finally come.
The girls and I started walking and made our way the few blocks up to Ground 0. I still have no idea what I was expecting, but I had prayed a prayer for God to protect my heart before we left the church. As I entered that place, I was thankful for that prayer. A heaviness settled around me as I slowly came face to face with the first huge water fountain memorial. The rain started to fall a little harder now. As I watched the water stream down into the fountain, and as the rain fell and splashed on each of the written names of the lost-some who were never found- all I could think was these are the tears from Heaven, the sadness Jesus feels because of the hurt in this world and these are the tears of all of the people affected by this tragic day that has gone down in history as 9/11.
“Hold it together” I thought, “come on, you can do this.” My heart started to pound hard against the walls of my chest as the tears grew hot and began to sting my eyes. I blinked them away and said a prayer. For a moment, I looked around as we walked to the second fountain, and realized how many people were there. Taking photos, frantically searching for names, some laughing, some just wandering. I let my eyes settle on a group of three New York City police officers. As you know, I have a heart for justice, and as I watched these officers tell stories to each other and monitor the crowd, I couldn’t contain it any longer. I let the intensity of the moment overtake me and I let the tears fall. I watched them as their cheerful smiles spread across their faces, despite being in a “city that never smiles” they seemed quite friendly. I let my mind imagine that tragic day thirteen years ago and the brothers that they may have lost. The smiles that I saw were replaced by fear as I imagined frantic and stressed looks on their faces. I sent up a prayer for them but couldn’t ignore the urge to personally thank them. I turned back to the second fountain, paid my respects, and sauntered over to the officers with the girls.
As I walked towards them, I made awkward eye contact with one of the officers. Immediately, my eyes found the ground as I felt the sting of tears coming back. So young, maybe just a few years older than me. “Pull it together, Grace”, for some reason I always hear my mom’s voice when I’m trying to encourage myself. Probably from years of her always encouraging me to be brave and from years of her calling me by my middle name, Grace. I drew in a sharp breath and looked back up. Now they were all looking at me. “Great.”
“Um, Hi, I, uh, just saw you guys talking over here and just really wanted to come and say, um, thank you for what you do.”
It was silent for just a brief moment, thank God, and quickly the older officer gave me a smile. I felt relief as he said you’re welcome and asked where I was from.
“Illinois.” I replied.
“Ah! Chi-cah-gooo. Nice!” He said with his thick New York accent.
“Yeah” I said, “well about 5 hours south of the city.” I quickly replied.
“Oh, okay.” He responded with almost just a hint of disappointment.
“Yeah, anyway, like I said, I just really wanted to say thank you.” As I shook their hands, my voice cracked, and each squeezed a little more tightly than the one before, as we all began to realize my tears were rejoining us for this party.
This time, all three of the officers looked at me more seriously, and clearly and confidently responded, one at a time with “You’re welcome.”
“Hey have a nice time here, okay?” The older officer sweetly said as I walked away and squeezed myself as I threw caution to the wind and let the tears fall slowly again onto my cheeks. I flashed him a sad smile and turned and walked as fast as I could from the sadness I was feeling.
As I left Ground 0 behind me, I felt God’s arms wrap around me. I started to breathe and found myself settling into Him, where I belong. His deep love washed over me in a moment.
After a year of being around the world, being in some of the most beautiful places and some of the most terribly sad places. I couldn’t help but think about how the heaviness of the last twenty minutes was almost sadder than anything I experienced over the last year. Having had the opportunity to do the race helped to prepare me for that moment. And every moment from here on out.
It just really hit home, ya know? I mean, literally. Like I said, I have such a heart for justice. If God didn’t do anything else this last year (which He did) He definitely showed me that I am passionate about seeking justice for those who don’t have it & being a voice for the voiceless. Being at Ground 0 just reassured that even more. Talking to those police officers, knowing that they do something tangibly every day to seek justice, made all of those passions come alive so much more. I don’t know why it took three NYPD officers to fan the flames of my heart, but God works in mysterious ways.
I am so blessed by the last year of my life. But this last year was simply preparation for the rest of my life and the calling that God has placed on me. I realized that in the moments that I spent at Ground 0 And spoke with those officers.
I don’t know what the rest of my life holds but, as cliche as it sounds, I know who holds it. And in knowing that, I am confident. I’ve heard the question so many times: well, what are you going to do now? and I’ve answered the same way every time: I’m not entirely sure. I know the passions God’s placed so heavily on my heart, but I don’t know what’s next, if I’m being honest. And that’s okay. I’m taking one day at a time. I’ve come to realize over this last year that I don’t always have to know everything, honestly, it’s better that way. I’m trusting God and holding onto all He’s promised me. That’s all He wants.
All I know is that I pray God stirs those passions in my heart on a daily basis.
Because when my heart is moved, I move…
I won’t stop moving.
||my new blog site is coming soon! Stay tuned..||
