not such a normal day, but a day in the life . . . .

this is not such a normal day, "this" being september 11th, or 9-11, as we will forever remember its significance.  tragedy always has a way of making its mark in our lives, much like the mark left 30 years ago this year when my father died of a massive heart attack on the day before i was to return home for vacation from graduate school; today we remember the events of 11 years ago.  even as i sit at my keyboard, the hairs on my arms are standing up.  eerie, impossible; unbelievable.  still we grieve, and still we struggle to come to terms with how to treat one another in peaceable ways.

as i clicked onto my search engine this morning (i use 'bing' here at the office), that beautiful memorial greeted me; ground zero; that now sacred space, with the flowing water that leaves us reflective of what happened on that day, and what has happened since.  i am renewed by water falls and reflective pools -- water in general, and so this is a very meaningful memorial for me, even though i wish it were unnecessary.

i reflect today about the presence of the spiritual presence that was a part of this event in our history; the chapel of old st. paul reflected in the children's storybook, the little chapel that stood by a.b.curtiss.  a chapel of historical presence where the spirits of george washington and alexander hamilton and others through the ages remain; where new york city grew around; this chapel remaining as a place where sanctuary could be found . . . .a place of grace.

this was not what i was thinking of last night as i went to bed, as i put aside the novel i was reading before i turned out the lights, as i remembered the power music and the moving set of the met's production of wagner's ring cycle now available to be seen by the world.  and this was not what i was thinking of a few minutes after 11 as my neighbor's family decided to have a late evening crisis in their backyard, joined by the neighborhood dogs.  nor was this what i was thinking about at well after two-in-the-morning, when i discovered that i had been joined in bed by well over a dozen-and-a-half of ants that came from somewhere, i'm still just not sure where!

it wasn't until i was reminded of this day that i remembered the significance of this day . . . . not that i would intentionally forget, or even be able to forget.  it just took the collective remembering of a nation and a world that continues to experience the tragedy of struggle.  we can't seem to get away from our own inability to get along.  nor can we get away from the care and kindness of people who respond with their generous hearts, for which i am grateful  on this not such a normal day, but a day in the life . . . .