I often wonder if I will live long enough on this earth to have the morning of September 11 be like any other morning when I get up and consider the day ahead.  Perhaps, perhaps not.

This morning, I will head out onto the Beltway and go to an early morning small group worship service. This morning, in the early hours, I will drive south past the Pentagon.  I will go past a building I pass almost daily now on my way to the beginning of another new phase in my seminary life.

Eleven years ago I woke early, getting ready to go to Baltimore for my very first studio class — the beginning of another great adventure, the beginning of my formal education as a conservatory student.  And on that morning, I felt the earth shake as the building that I will pass this morning exploded in flames.

Eleven years ago, I was just worried about the mechanics of studying music in a formal environment.  Eleven years ago, this day changed so many lives in so many ways — including my own.  Eleven years ago I began to question and ponder the meaning of art and faith in life in such a way that I am now on this day that I am a seminary student who sings, instead of a musician who occasionally ponders the meaning of faith.

And I cannot help but remember.  I am glad for the opportunity to worship with my new friends today, just as I am always grateful for the chance to worship and remember with my community of faith.  Remembering and community are the stuff of which we are made as human beings.

May you take a moment today, and remember — remember in silence, remember in prayer, remember in joy, remember in sorrow.  But remember, nonetheless.


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