It was September 11, 2001 and I had the day off. I rarely watch daytime TV but I flipped the TV on to watch country music videos, thinking it would make the mundane job of sorting the laundry a bit more pleasant. I sat cross legged on the floor with piles of clothing stacked in a semicircle around me. Suddenly a newscaster broke into CMT. There was footage of the North Tower smoking in New York City, an expanation of how an aircraft had hit the tower. I switched to a local station and then to CNN. It all enfolded so rapidly before my eyes. It was on every channel and I couldn’t get enough info. Could it be real? The hardcore, always calm national newscasters on every channel were in disbelief, in shock, visibly upset themselves. Some could barely contain their own composure. I felt so alone. My husband called to see if I had heard. I told him what I knew.

And then… life went on for me. Here in the middle of the Midwest, New York City is but a fairy tale. The only thing most of us know of New York City is learned from TV sitcoms and drama series and that lifestyle is as far from our lives as that of someone from Germany or Japan. We know it’s there but it is almost beyond comprehension. I had never even heard of the Twin Towers before that day.

Our brand new great big hot tub had just been delivered the day before. We had dreamed of having one for years but they seemed so expensive so extravagant. We drive used cars and we drive them ’til they fall apart but we had decided that we wanted this one luxury while our kids were still at home to enjoy it. We had done our homework and purchased a big, fine Sundance Spa that would last. So on this day, September 11th, the electrician had come to do the final installation. I filled it with water and let it heat up. But I could feel no joy. All I could think of were all those people who had lost their lives and the horror of it.

Later that night Angus and I soaked in the warmth of it under a perfect clear sky. We were quiet. Both of us lost in our own thoughts. I was happy. I was sad. I was mixed up. I let the water caress me in my sorrow and I felt guilt… for not even knowing one person in New York City or Washington, DC … for living in an insulated world …for enjoying life …for having life.

I looked up at those millions of stars in the blackness up above and I knew. God was out there. Each star was like a pinpoint of hope for with God when there is nothing else left, there is always hope. And I prayed and prayed and prayed.