Reformed Grits

I don't mean to be ugly...

but would someone tell Britney Spears that she does not have the body of someone on the Mickey Mouse Club anymore but more like someone who has earned the right to wear Mom Jeans?  I'm not slammin' it because I'm ok with my leather-bag purse of a stomach and the stretch marks and tangerine-in-a-sweatsock babyfeeders (See number 10) but she's not foolin' anyone and I just really feel sorry for her.  The sooner she figures it out, the happier she will be, bless her heart, because she is obviously miserable! 

Ok, now back to the REAL world where I couldn't care less about and don't comment on celebrities. 

I remember...

Do you remember where you were?  I do. 

I had walked my kids in to school and our youth pastor was there and said, "Did you hear about that plane that flew into the World Trade Center?"  I hadnt, but in my mind I had an image of a little commuter plane gone awry.   I left there and was headed to the local mall with my 11 month old son. 

I turned on the radio and heard one of the morning DJ's say, "This is like Pearl Harbor!" as they commentated what they saw on the tv.  "How DARE they say that?"  I thought.  Surely this "accident" was nothing like that premeditated attack?  I was disgusted.  Seems like I turned the station.  Then I heard... ANOTHER plane had hit the other tower.  I called my friend, C who was at home. 

"What's going on on the tv with those planes?" I asked.  She was stunned.  She described two of the tallest buildings in the city that had been slammed by, yes, big airliners. 

You have to be kidding me.   That's not a simple pilot error.  What's going on? 

About that time, she started really freaking out... I dont know if she gasped; screamed; or just said, "OH NO NO NO!"   She said, "You wont believe it, but the building just fell head-long into the city!" 

I was floored.  Still driving to the mall.  My husband rang in on my cell phone. 

"Kim have you been keeping up with what is going on?"

He told me that at that point not only had the two buildings fallen, but another plane had been flown into the White House (rumors, you know) and they thought another plane had crashed or was heading somewhere else.

I really started panicking now.  "WHAT IS GOING ON????"  I was almost at the mall, but turned around and headed home.  I was scared.

When I got home I put the baby to bed and glued myself to the tv.  Tears streamed down my face as I saw the images being replayed over and over.

I remember the view behind two news people as the other plane hit. 

I remember the images of a man, in a suit, running for his life as a camera left on the ground recorded the building as it collapsed.  The look on his face knowing that huge building was chasing him as fast as gravity would bring it.  Then the cloud of smoke that blinded my view.   I have often wondered if he lived as massive objects hit the ground.

I remember some horrible photographer who took pictures of people so desperate that they jumped from the building.   The images are burned in my mind.   It's like a thick scar now. 

I remember crying as I watched people in shock, strangers holding each other. 

I remember videos laymen took of the unfolding scene and the cursing and crying in the background as they watched a familiar site decimated.  Likely because they knew someone inside. 

I remember the stories of people who lost loved ones.  And the stories of the moment they realized a person precious and important to them was in harm's way.  Then lost.  The anguish as they begged to know details, anything, of the last moments of their lives.  Like grasping water.

I remember a picture of a messenger's bike chained to a street sign.  Never recovered because the messenger had taken a parcel in one of the buildings. 

I remember blanching at the infathomable count of the lost. 

I remember brokenhearted firefighters and policemen, and the President who rallied and cheered them. 

I remember my mom calling me just to hear my voice.  I remember being comforted hearing hers. 

That night as I lay in my bed the collage of these images attacked my mind.  I couldnt find sleep.  I couldnt find rest.  I just cried and prayed.  Prayer was hard; all I knew to say was Lord, help them.  Lord, help us.  Help us all. 

(Read more personal stories over at Shannon's Rocks In My Dryer!)

Croc Hunter

I was so sad yesterday morning when I checked my email and Katie had sent me a message that the Crocodile Hunter had died.  My first thought was that, no that was that urban legend again going around; so I checked Fox News and sure enough there it was. 

Dave and I have watched him forever and will always remember his exuberance and charismatic love for God's creatures.  We always hoped we'd get a glimpse of his personal faith... maybe he was one of those who had "clearly seen" the Creator in His Creation.  Sadly, it's something we never saw so we really do grieve for this family.

I was always impressed with the way he adored his wife giving her great respect and an equal name in his work.  We were excited with them when we first saw Terri's "baby bump" and realized that they were going to be a family of 3.  I cried during the show where they showed his first child being born.  I loved seeing him scoop up his ever-present daughter anytime she was around.  She was never shuffled off (go play; daddy's working) but always revered and seen as an important part of what he did... teaching others about animals. 

I cant get it out of my mind... what it must have been like in his final moments.  Did he even know what hit him?  Did his wife and children flash before his eyes?  Or maybe his eyes opened to The Great Mystery of how these amazing animals were made with loving care and not evolved from sludge? We wont know on this earth.  How ironic, though, as careful as he was and knowledgeable and respectful of animals as he was he suffered a fatal blow from an animal that is not even really that deadly?  I read that had the barb not gone directly to his heart he may not have died.  "Unlucky," I read. 

His tragic death was no more given to chance and random happenings than the animals he loved and devoted his life to preserving. 

We will always remember the Croc Hunter! 

For the invisible things of him since the creation of the world are clearly seen, being perceived through the things that are made, even his everlasting power and divinity; that they may be without excuse. Romans 1:20