Celebrating Life on September 11th

Three years ago on September 11th I was 9 months pregnant with my third child.  In the weeks leading up to her birth, I feared - and even dreaded - that I would go into labor just four days early, thereby giving her a birth date of 9/11.  As I struggled to make peace with this possibility before it could become a reality, I came to find the idea of giving birth to new life on the anniversary of such death and destruction to be a   s t r a n g e l y   b e a u t i f u l   p a r a d o x

Knowing that if I were to give birth to this child on September 11th, there would be so much that my heart needed to say, but no time or energy with which to say it, I wrote - in the days before September 11th, 2012 -  what you're about to read, AS IF she had already been born and AS THOUGH her birth date were, in fact, 9/11.

September 11th came and went that year.  And when, on September 12th, I found myself to be still pregnant...I was profoundly disappointed.  You see...as my heart struggled to make sense of this idea - and then as I wrote the words you will read below, I realized that there could be nothing more beautiful...or powerful...than to bring forth new life on the anniversary of such hate and darkness.

Since the child that I wrote this piece about was NOT born on September 11th, 

I dedicate the following to all the children that have been born into a post-9/11 world

 and even more so, to the children that are blessed...

and cursed...

to share this date with history. 

I also dedicate this to our fellow military families, 

who serve every moment of every day,

 (and in some of those moments, quite honestly, need some help remembering 'why'.)  

I'm there, myself...too often.  

And finally, I dedicate this to all the hearts that are hurting today, 

because they lost someone they dearly loved 14 years ago.  

Yours was the greatest sacrifice of all.  

There IS a hope for our future!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Our third child was due September 15th

I had hoped that she wouldn't decide to make her arrival 4 days early - on September 11th.

September 11th is a day that hangs H E A V Y with death and sadness. It's a day for remembering life, not celebrating it. Not a day for looking forward with hopes and dreams. But a day for looking back and remembering.

Alas, as everyone knows, babies don't cooperate.

~~~~~~

Our baby girl was born on September 11th, 2012.

~~~~~~

We named her Lily. 

A lily symbolizes innocence,  purity,  and beauty.

The day that was once only a somber anniversary has become - for our family - also a beautiful celebration of life.  And although I had hoped that our sweet, new child would not share her birthday with some of the most tragic memories in our nation's history, the stark contrast of joy and sadness that this day now represents to this military family is suddenly a beautiful reminder of why we serve.  He with his uniform and me and our children with our love and support... With our willingness to go with him when we can and to allow him to go alone when he must.

'Our  W I L L I N G N E S S  

to go with him when we can

And to allow him to go  

A L O N E  

when he must'

Lily's birth on this significant day reminds us that, although the 'looking back' is invaluable, the service to our country is always forward looking.  It's for the preservation of the hopes and dreams of this newest generation. Because when you look into the eyes of a small child you know all that is within them that is beautiful, innocent, and pure deserves a life free of fear and filled with
p o s s i b i l i t i e s...

Lily's birth on September 11th reminds us that the memories will always be raw and painful but there is a hope for the future.  We can see that hope in the eyes of the smallest, most innocent among us.   And - as a military family - we serve our country with every breath we take for this great and innocent hope.

'The looking back is made complete 

in the looking forward'

Be encouraged this September 11th anniversary. And as we all experience the profound sadness that comes with watching the horrific memories on the television throughout the day, realize that the looking back is made complete in the looking forward.  Amidst the ugliness, there is still a hope and a beauty in this world. And this hope and beauty is why we - and countless other military families -
S  E  R  V  E.

Finding Paradise... (and some sea turtles)

"We're moving to Hawaii."  Those words came in the form of a phone call.  My husband, calling to tell me that he'd spoken with the Detailer and he'd accepted the orders offered.  He didn't consult with me prior to accepting.  He didn't need to.  He had assumed that I would be elated.  And he was right.  8 months later, we stepped off a plane smack in the middle of our new island-home.  Our very first Hawaiian vacation was going to be a nice long one - 3 years, in fact.  I couldn't have been more excited!

The drive from the airport to our hotel was unassumingly monumental.  Like a breath.  Or the period between two sentences.  We traveled straight through, what I later discovered to be, the most beautiful part of the island.  Our first drive down H3 towards our hotel was so spectacularly breathtaking that I thought for an instant we must have accidentally boarded a space-shuttle instead of an airplane and landed on a planet far more mysterious and mystical than our own.  The mountains stood so tall.  The clouds so low.  The colors so unnaturally vibrant.  It was all so very real yet so indescribably overwhelming that my senses seemed to crumble beneath the intensity of its real-ness.  I couldn't fully absorb what I was seeing.  I was disoriented just trying to take it all in.  It was ethereal and amazing.  My heart swelled with joy and excitement at the adventure that lie before us.

That afternoon, my children chased ducks and geckos in the backyard.  They marveled at this idea of water falling from the sky (we last lived in Monterey, California...where it might have rained twice in the two years we lived there) and splashed in puddles like they'd only read about in children's books.  My husband put his arms around me as we watched the children playing - the sound of waves crashing in the distance.  Here we are.  Home.  Paradise.

Paradise.  I honestly didn't know that Hawaii's nickname is Paradise before I moved here.  But it was one of the very first things I learned - like 'haole' and 'slippers' and 'Shave Ice'.  Like a password for a secret club, as we made our way towards baggage claim in the airport, I heard countless vacationers uttering the word 'paradise'.  And in the 7 months that we've lived here since, I have heard (or over-heard) the word paradise almost daily. Along with the sentiment, "You are so lucky to live here!"  Yes.  Yes, we are.

But here's the thing:  we're 7 months into our Hawaii life and, in this short time, I have discovered that it's not paradise.  Not really.  Oh, it's pretty.  Beautiful, even.  Of course, it's warm all year yet deliciously crisp and cool at night.  The ocean is blue as blue could possibly be...not to mention only a 5 or 10 minute drive from our house.  But the warm can quickly turn suffocating and sticky, and when the clouds roll in (as they too often do) the ocean somehow loses its blue...and even a 5 minute drive feels like a lifetime when the baby is screaming...and beautiful beach days always mean that there won't be any parking spaces......

"Paradise isn't a place, 

i  t ' s   a   s t a t e   o f   t h e   h e a r t"

So I've been forced to grapple with this idea of 'paradise'.  And I've realized that paradise isn't a place, it's a state of the heart. When people tell me how lucky I am and how much they yearn to live here, what they really mean is that they yearn to live in some endless state of vacation.  I think that's sort of how I imagined Hawaii before we moved here.  But I've learned that, good or bad, life is always there.  Life doesn't 'follow' or 'not follow' me around the world.  Life is within me.  Life hasn't stopped because we live in Paradise.  Believe me, paradise is just full of flat tires, cranky kids, dirty laundry, pesty insects...heck even our bills managed to find our new address in Paradise.  It's all here...same as in California, or Georgia, or Virginia before that.  Sure we get a few more beach days every year (okay, okay, every week...) but we come home from the beach with a car filled with sand, cranky and sun-burned kids, dinner to prepare, and a bigger mountain of beach towels to wash than you ever dreamed possible.

I don't mean to sound like I'm complaining.  We're so grateful for our opportunity to live in this beautiful part of the world.  We're grateful for the adventures, for the memories...

And for that 

G L O R I O U S

tropical sunshine.

(even when it's shining through very dirty windows)

But when our time here is up, I think we'll be ready to leave. And when life inevitably follows us to our next destination, I hope that destination is simply 'home' with our families.  That's the truest Paradise of all.