I was at a bagel shop meeting with my discipler, Angie P., when friends told us what had happened. Pregnant with our oldest child, I couldn’t fathom the disaster of 9/11. I can still feel his little body moving underneath my hand, a hand that automatically rose to my belly when I heard of the horror of that day. I marvel that it’s been seven years, yet it still seems so fresh, so real. And I draw my children a little closer into my arms again today to remember. And I pray for those whose scars will always be fresh and real.
Where were you?
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