A Time to Heal

September 11, 2001 was a horrible day.

I remember everything that happened that day. I remember watching the horror on television. I remember being in such shock I couldn't work. I remember the worrying I did over a friend who lived in New York, and the panic I felt when I couldn't reach him for hours on end. I remember the endless coverage on television, the thousands of people who lost their lives and the agony this country went through.

I remember.

At the same time, I have moved on. I have moved past that time. I don't think about it every hour or every day or even every week. I have grieved. I have cried. And I have gone past the ache, past the tears, past the shock, to live a normal life again. A different normal to be sure, but normal nonetheless.

However, there are those who are not allowed to move forward.

I watched a news program last night that chronicled the lives of the children of September 11th. Those who lost a father or mother in the attack. Those who have lived with the horror of that day for the past five years. Those who are not permitted to heal.

For them, every time they see the towers fall on television, their parent is murdered once again. And on this anniversary of the attack, this one day a year when we bring it all up again, those children suffer. They suffer the loss of someone who meant everything to them. They suffer in remembering the shock of when they first found out their beloved mother or father would not be coming home. They suffer the grief that should be fading, but is resurrected anew with each anniversary of death and destruction.

When will it stop?

One girl in the program explained how horrible it is. "They just won't let us get past it," she said through her tears. One child said the memories of her father were fading after five years, but not the memory of his violent and untimely death. She said she dreads this day every year, because she knows the footage on television will be of the exact moments her father died. All these children want is to heal from the devastating wounds inflicted on that September day.

When will it stop?

How would we feel if we had to watch the event that caused one of our own loved ones to die over and over and over again? It seems to me as though it would be bad enough just to remember it, without having to see it played out time and time again on television. Yet that's what we as a nation are putting these innocent victims of this disaster through. We re-injure them every time the events of that day are replayed on television and radio.

When will it stop?

When can we move on, remembering still, yet hurting less? When will these children be able to put their lives back together and get past this terrible event? How does it help us to relive this disaster over and over again?

Remember; always remember. But then we must heal. We cannot live in the past. We must look toward the future...the children.

And they will always remember.


Ecclesiastes 3
A Time for Everything
1 For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.
2 A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest.
3 A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up.
4 A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance.
5 A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones. A time to embrace and a time to turn away.
6 A time to search and a time to quit searching. A time to keep and a time to throw away.
7 A time to tear and a time to mend. A time to be quiet and a time to speak.
8 A time to love and a time to hate. A time for war and a time for peace.
(NLT)