Struck Down but Not Destroyed

Zeb was 6 months old and Lee was out of town.  My mom called and told me the news.  Then she called me again.  Then she called me again.

The first tower.  The second tower.  The Pentagon.  

Then somehow, in a fog already, I learned that a plane had gone down in Pennsylvania.  Lee was in Pennsylvania and I hadn't heard from him.  I was scared for my country and my family.  

In the coming hours I learned that Lee was fine, but it would be a few days before he could get home.  The country was pretty much scrambling.  He told me to pack my bags and head to my parents' house.  In such a time of upheaval he didn't want me alone.  

I spent the next few days with my parents.  It was almost surreal.  I don't remember much, but I do remember crying and wanting to see Lee.  I remember holding Zeb and wondering if he would have the chance to grow up and be happy.  War was something that happened far away.  

Lee came home and life went on.  We began another adoption in November, and on the one year anniversary of 9-11, we were in Colombia again falling in love with Michal.  

Although time seemed to stand still that day, the world kept turning.  We didn't forget, and we won't forget, but we do live on.  

We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed;

perplexed, but not in despair;

persecuted, but not abandoned;

struck down, but not destroyed.

2 Cor. 4:8-9