?and my greatest fear today is not of attacks or airplanes ? though I still do dread more violence, and I still have not boarded a jet.
No, my worst fear is instead that I have wasted this year.
The first words I wrote after surviving the attacks were, ?Yes, I am blessed to be alive.? And I am reminded of the truth of that every day. I compare my fate with those who were only a city block away from me that day and who died. I look at my family and my friends and the circumstances of my life and I do not call this just luck. I know it is a blessing. I am blessed to be alive.
I had thought ? I had hoped ? that that the important events of September 11th would lead to important change not only in the nation and the world but also in my life. Of course, I was not alone in that hope.
Writer Norah Vincent said in the Los Angeles Times:
Scratch most Americans these days and you’ll find that many of them have made a big change in their lives in the last 12 months, something not obviously attributable to Sept. 11 but a response to it nonetheless.
It might be something as outwardly trivial as finally sticking to the Atkins diet, quitting smoking or taking up yoga. Then again, it might be something monumental like ending a decades-old bad marriage or quitting a cushy job to pursue a life in the arts. But whatever it is, the impetus behind the changes we made is essentially the same for everyone.
Deep down, we all did it because we knew that it might have been us in those towers.
I am frankly appalled by this sort of self-absorbed California-think: reducing the unimaginable tragedy, the monstrous crime of September 11th into an excuse for a diet or divorce or a yoga class.
No, the blessing of surviving September 11th is an obligation: an obligation to take the time that is now a gift and use it well, an obligation to return the blessing, to improve the world, not just yourself.
I had hoped that I would have had the courage to do something important. I don?t know what I had in mind: writing a book of note; starting a good company; helping build this small church.
But I did none of that.
For it did not take long at all for life to return to normal. And the truth is that normal life can be banal and irritating; normal life can be filled with petty politics and silly make-work and turf squabbles and self-centered worries; normal life is the distraction from the important; this is the nature of normal.
September 11th, on the other hand, was profound: profound in its tragedy, in its heroism, in its challenge, in its evil, and in its virtue.
And so I suppose I have been suffering a withdrawal from profundity. I suppose I wanted to find the way to make life stay profound.
But now I admit: that?s not normal; it?s not possible; it?s not even desirable; it?s not what life is about.
Life is about the every day.
And I have come to realize lately that the true test of us is not how we act in profound times but in normal times. Can we take the selflessness and sacrifice and courage and generosity and loyalty and concern and charity we saw on September 11th and bring it to the every day of normal life?
When you think about it, that is the exact challenge our God gives us: Can we take the profound virtue in the profound tests in the Bible and bring it into our daily lives, into our work, and homes, and friendships?
Read the rest of what is to be Jeff Jarvis’ sermon at his church’s memorial service this Wednesday.
Previous to 9.11, I had already felt blessed. I’ve overcome much in my life to be where I am and am thankful. 9.11 amplified my feelings ten fold – I needed to dedicate my life to something. Just what I had no idea. I still don’t.
Sometimes a talk with a priest can help you sort your emotions, so that Saturday I went to confession. I do face to face confessions. I tried the private kind once and I felt silly. We had a good talk. I explained my feelings. My desire to do something with my life that counted. How watching so many stand up that day was so inspirational. Shouldn’t I be running off to New York? Father expained to me what Jeff is explaining above to his congregation. That the best thing I can do in this world is become a better person. Be the best husband I can be. The best brother. The best uncle. Be there for my family. They needed me first.
Two hours later, we would get the call that Hunter was in the hospital, not breathing. My three month old nephew had died from SIDS.
I havn’t gone to confession since – even if I knew Father’s words were prophetic and spot on.
I wish I could make it to Jeff’s service. That’s gonna be one great sermon.