Memories, love, and Father Mychal

It’s hard to write about the anniversary of 9/11.   When I let my mind go there, the images of that day are so raw and real, even ten years after the fact.  One memory that I can’t forget is going to school and talking about what had just happened with students who were as shell-shocked and horrified as I was.  One stricken sophomore girl asked, “Why do they hate us so much?”, and I had no answer for her.  I still don’t.

The most I can do is pray for all of the people who died, as well as for all those who lost parents, children, spouses, brothers and sisters, lovers, friends.   As Queen Elizabeth said many years ago at a memorial service for 9/11 victims, “Grief is the price we pay for love.”   And in a weird way, I find those words comforting.  We mourn because we love … and love is always worth the price.

Earlier this week, ran my article  Safe with him: What we can learn from Father Mychal Judge.   Judge was the fire chaplain who was killed at the World Trade Center, and he’s the kind of Catholic I aspire to be.  Actually, he’s the kind of human being I aspire to be.   On a day that is so full of painful memories, he is a reminder that we can all be agents of healing and love, if we are willing to meet people right where they are.

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