Some Days Are Remembered

I would wager a bet that everyone in America over the age of twenty can answer these questions:  Where were you on September 11, 2001?  How did you hear the news? How did your life change from that day forward?

Driving to school this morning, I retold my daughter our story of September 11, 2001. She was in her 14th month of life on that day and sitting in her high chair in the kitchen.  I was listening to the Spike O'Dell radio show when it was announced that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.  Toddler in arm, I went to my husband's office, conveniently located down a flight of stairs.

We stayed together all day. I held and stroked my daughter more than usual - when she napped, while she ate, while we played.  Jay and I took turns listening to and sharing the shocking events throughout the day,

Hearing 9/11 stories, I believe there is a common thread.  Most everyone held each other close that day and in the days that followed.  The huge catalyst for our closeness was fear.  If this happened there, it could happen here.  If it took the life of a husband, it could take my husband's life.  If it took a mother, it could take my baby's mom.

Fear is an extremely strong deterrent.  We have used it in our talks to our daughter about illegal drugs.  We want her to be afraid of illegal drugs, potently-laced and potentially fatal.

Fear can be a driving force, a force we can learn to name and own.  When my daughter is confronted with something bad and worthy of fear,  I want her to be able to say to herself, "This is bad and I am scared."  I want her to be able to problem-solve her way out of the fear in a healthy manner.  I want her to be able to ask for help.  I want her to be able to know how to say "no." I want her to be able to express her reasons for saying no to herself and to another person.

I don't ask for much.

I don't believe we can let go of fear.  Plus, it gets wired in.  Every time I see a plane in the sky, I think of projectiles. Can't help it.  September 11.  Wired in.  But, as I am trying to teach my daughter, I think we can name our fears, real and imagined, and expose them to the light of truth.

Elizabeth Gilbert said it better, "You cannot force out the darkness.  You can only bring in the light."