Community

Although I didn't publish anything  on our blog on Tuesday, September 11th, 2012, my mind was flooded with thoughts all day long about the tragedy that occurred 11 years ago. I tried to think about the families that were hurt on this day. To them, this day is the anniversary of the death of a loved one. It is hard to believe that this event is 11 years in the past.

I was young when this event happened, and I remember feeling sad, but a little confused. I was not really sure what it all meant. Originally, although I did not grasp the details, I did understand that many people died, and were injured. With this-and I am sure we all felt it-I remember a great sense of community and God throughout the town. It was kind of like Christmastime, when everyone seems to care a little bit more, and is just a little bit nicer/friendlier. This sense seems to always fade after a few days, weeks, or months. It is unfortunate that it takes major holidays or tragic events to bring us together as a nation, but when horrible things happen, at least we can find some good in it.

Craig and Jackie, my in-laws, live in southern Utah, very near the dam that burst and flooded the town on the eleventh. Craig wrote this about his experience:

We're safe, no one was hurt, and although the dam burst about a block from our house it was downhill from our home, and all of the water went in the other direction. The power of that wall of water, and all of the destruction it caused to homes and businesses was incredible.

What was also incredible was the reaction of people. There was in fact a second wave closely following the first. A wave of people who came from everywhere to shovel mud, remove water from basements, salvage what could be salvaged, and to comfort those who had lost everything.

Jackie was part of that effort, and immediately dropped everything to work with the Red Cross in a command center. She observed hundreds of people who simply showed up and asked, "What can I do to help?"

Hundreds more came on their own, walking into flooded neighborhoods to help people they didn't know. I loved the fathers who guided young sons to stand in lines passing buckets of muddy water out of a stranger's basement. I loved the quiet good humor of people who did back breaking work for hours. People who had been spared only by luck and a few feet set out tables on their lawn and cooked food for hours to anyone who came along.

I loved reading this, and about their experience of feeling such great strength throughout their community.

I sometimes get bogged down in my daily routine and the noise of the world. I forget what it means to be an American. News is filled with so many negative stories, and I forget that to be an American is a great and blessed opportunity. But look at this-look at the selfless strangers that we are surrounded by that are just waiting to feed us, shovel mud out of our homes, and help us salvage our most precious belongings. These people are not strangers-they are fellow Americans-they are our brothers and sisters.

I am very proud today, and on every day, to be an American.