I write this post on the 12th anniversary of one of the most somber moments in this country--Sept. 11. I remember the madness of the day because I covered it for the Washington Afro. It was a day where Antonio's and my only thought was to be reunited, despite the gridlocked traffic. On that day, many of us felt discouraged and unable to make sense of it. Yet, here we are, 12 years later. The attacks led to certain actions and changes in the world that may have led to the election of this country's first African-American president.
Today, I was talking to one of my very young colleagues, whose friend was supposed to have been on the Pentagon flight. He was a student at Leckie Elementary (or Backus) and his mom was called to get him in, and she missed the call. When she returned the call, she was told that his slot was already taken. Note I wrote this in passive voice because I don't have first-hand knowledge but this colleague is a great source. But it's incidents like these that remind me that when things do not happen as I want them to, sometimes they weren't meant to be. Imagine if that child had gotten to go on that trip on that fateful day, Sept. 11. Imagine if his mother joined them? Devastating.
That's why my new attitude is "I'll do what I can do, Lord, the rest is up to you."
I refuse to keep fighting for what isn't for me.
