I just finished watching a documentary on 9/11... it was actually an accidental documentary that had footage from inside the buildings, from a Firefighter's perspective. It messed with me. In the middle of the second tower coming down, we (my Mom, Ben, Craig and I) heard a crash come from the basement where my Dad had been working. My Mom ran downstairs and then moments later, came up following my Dad who had a big, bloody towel on his chin. Timing is everything I guess. He was cleaning the spa when the little deck around it collapsed and he jarred his chin on the part that, well, didn't. Off to the ER they went, most likely to get stitches and make sure he doesn't have a concusion.

My heart is wrecked right now. I've realized that being sick makes you incredibly lonely and sad, and now allowing myself to process (yet again) 9/11 and think about where our world is at since then... so much to take in.

I find myself, when I get overwhelmed by the disarray of the world, begging God to let me see monuments in my life; to allow me to live to see my wedding day, to have babies, to see my babies marry... God, I'm not ready to die yet. Just FYI.