A Late Reaction

Nineteen is the nothing age: nothing happens. One might possibly have a birthday party, but one simply turns a year older. At eighteen, the glories of legal adulthood capture the attention. One can legally purchase new items, can vote for the leaders of their city, state, and nation, and can fight for the freedom of one’s country and those of others. At twenty, one leaves the stigma of the “teens” although no new perks warrant the age. And of course, at twenty-one, the privilege to legally consume alcoholic beverages opens new doors, quite literally, to previously exclusive establishments. Thus, nineteen has nothing. In fact, many people that I have chatted with feel very similarly and have even expressed that they, just as I, still felt eighteen despite the year of development.

My mother coined a term in her youth which she called “being there.” This is a moment when you realize that you have reached a point in life which you have been anticipating for a length of time. These moments hit me not at the moment I achieve the aspiration, but usually a while afterwards. The most recent experience of “being there” hit me on a recent Saturday night.

Bringing these two seemingly random paragraphs together, on this particular Saturday night, it hit me that I am nineteen, but more than that, I am an adult. I was dressed up, driving out to LA to eat sushi with a friend (which turned out to be such a fun night I will not forget). I did not only feel like an adult, I consciously conceived that I am an adult. I realized how far I have gotten and had reached a point which I had been striving to reach for years. In an instant, months after my nineteenth birthday, I had arrived. But more than this one realization hit me, I also had so much else in my life to reach towards. A life filled with next steps, new challenges, and further aspirations. As a psychology teacher of mine consistently quoted, “Life is a journey, a process, not a destination.”

For a related topic see:Do You Have a Moment?

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From My Memory In Memory of Others

For my church's memorial service for the fifth anniversary of the September 11 attacks, I was asked to compose a reading in remembrance. After the reading, our choir sang the song You Raise Me Up, by Brendan Graham and Rolf Lovland. To listen to the song, click here.

Snow-globes fascinate the eyes and minds of children. The white flakes whirl around a plastic skyline and blue sky. Many a New-Yorker viewed these toys in souvenir shops lning their route to work. But the life-size snow-globe of September 11 did not evoke any of the same feelings as the familiar toys. The white flakes were not snow, but memos, contracts, and office paper floating through the turbulent air; the skyline marred by plumes of smoke billowing from the World Trade Center towers. New York was not alone in facing fmailiar sights gone mad. The Pentagon and United Airlines Flight 93 also dealt with situations they hoped only to view second handedly.

While the rest of the nation and world did only view the events of that pivotal day, nonetheless that day affected the entire globe. I am sure that some of you can remember Pearl Harbor and more of you can remember JFK's assassination and the majority of you can remember the Challenger explosion. So also, we will all remember September 11 and where we were when we heard the news.

Myself, I had just recently started my first year of high school. On that morning, my brother and I got ready for school and ten minutes before we left for the bus, my parents turned the news on to find the coverage of the burning towers and Pentagon attack. My family watched in astonishment and right as we left for the bus, the first tower fell. By the time I arrived at school, the second tower had collapsed and the fourth plane crashed in Pennsylvania. In the time of one trip to school, thousands of people died and the global political climate had changed forever.

Upon my return home, after a day of television broadcasts and prayers, the news captivated my attention even more. The stunning and gruesome shots filled the airtime, but interviews with witnesses and family began to air as well. The most soul touching moment of my view of the ordeal aired that afternoon. As a journalist interviewed a woman who had remained near the scene through the day, the woman began to cry so hard, she could not speak. Instead of cutting the broadcast, the journalist immediately wrapped her in his arms and told her that "it would be okay" and that "we will get though this." Any my tears began to fall.

Even in devastation, beauty and love show through. On September 11, our nation united as our name asserts. We strove to raise each other up through our actions and prayers. And through our prayers, God raised us up to stand above mountains fo adversity and walk across seas of turbulence. He raises us up continually to more than we can be, to be with him.

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