Terrorism by Debbie Mascot
We are safe here. We are all the way on the other side of the States. So nothing touched us.
Right.
In the next town over, we lost a man from the hijacked plane that crashed in PA.
Several were lost from our general area.
Several were lost in my industry as they were housed in the Towers.
But I don't know personally a single person touched directly by the events of yesterday (at least if I do I don't know about it yet).
I do, however know OF a single person. A friend of a friend. He was on the first Tower to collapse. The 85th floor. Until a few minutes ago, no one had heard from him.
He’s fine.
A friend of a friend. And he’s fine.
And yet I can’t imagine being any more horrified.
I’m not scared for my life. I’m really not. Dying is just dying. No biggie. But I’m scared for things much, much bigger.
I’m scared of a mindset, a thought-process, a belief-system, a way of life that I cannot comprehend. I wasn’t brought up in a world prone to the ability to understand this. I was brought up in a world that gave me love and light and freedom and security.
I’m scared of that which I don’t understand and this I do not and cannot understand.
I pray that future generations can be brought up in my kind of world and not one that lives in the fear and hatred that bred these men. And that’s saying a lot for someone who really doesn’t usually pray.
Please know that I’m not picking on any race or religion or jumping to conclusions. I’m talking literally about the at least four men who were willing to do this to themselves and others, regardless of who they turn out to be. I cannot understand what would be strong enough to make someone willing to do that much horror. That is what I cannot understand. What I’m scared of. And they say you cannot understand someone until you walk a mile in their shoes and I don’t even understand the shoes of these four men, much less the ground they are forced to learn to walk on.
Again, I’m not talking about race or country. There are bazillions battlefields of horror on our own soil that these men may have come from. Battlefields where parents beat and abuse their children. Battlefields where torture is a daily occurrence. Battlefields that we read about in horror everyday. Battlefield-filled worlds where children can’t be children. And children being children is children practicing to be adult. Like kittens playing. It’s practice and if you never practice, you may never get to be good. Battlefields make for bad worlds. Bad worlds that I cannot understand.
The God I believe in will show these men what they did wrong and make them understand that it was in fact wrong. That in order to follow His word and be as good of a person as we can it means that we all love one another. Maybe we don’t like one another, but we love one another and sometimes agree to disagree. Like siblings do. We maybe stick our tongues out at eachother now and then, but the love is there. The respect. The God I believe in will show these men in their hearts what is real and will show them how awful what they did was.
I hope He also helps them with a way to deal with that much guilt. Because no human being who did this could live or die with himself knowing what he had done.
I am hoping you all are safe and that your children are still out playing and laughing and yelling and shooting hoops and skipping rope. That’s the RIGHT kind of world. And the only way to defend the right kind of world is to persevere and BE the right kind of world.