What September 11th means to me…

Today, I’m thinking about my cousin, whose birthday it is today. She’s three years younger than I, and this year has thrown her some challenges that have been hard to stand. She’s the most cheerful woman I know. Sweet, even. Generous with her time and her smile.

When this day rolls around, as it has with such an extraordinarily different significance these past six years than in all the other 30 years it has meant something to me, I try to think of her, and wish her a wonderful, happy birthday. I think about all the generally decent, kindhearted people out there who are very much like her, and I hope that their voices, their desires, their generosity, will be heard.

And when I think of her, I think of the things she has gone through this year, and I think of the hardships and frights and struggles I have faced in these past eleven months, and I wonder if there is something I can tell her, and you, and all of us who face something Herculean, something that seems so overwhelming and insurmountable that we want to despair before we even try….

What have I learned? I have learned to stop trying to see the mountain, but simply keep moving a bucket of earth and rocks, one bucket at a time, until my way is clear again. Every once in a while, someone comes along with a gigantic Backhoe and makes my task easier… but I know I can get through the mountain, one bucket at a time, if I have to do it that way.

I’ve also learned something about the nature of true faith. I’m not much on organized religion, but I do believe in right thinking and right acting and right conduct in this lifetime. I believe in kindness. I believe in a gentleness of spirit and a generosity of soul that can quietly conquer the hate and fear that has taken over our country. I used to think I had faith… but it was an empty faith, a faith built upon what I thought I needed, wanted, deserved. Now, I think I am beginning to learn what true faith is. It’s a kind of radiance, a calm acceptance. I don’t fight against the hand that’s been dealt me, I don’t throw my hand down in fury and frustration. I play what I’ve been dealt. I cherish what I do have. My faith is a chalice that is filled with waiting, with goodness, with giving and with the lost art of acceptance. I will breathe. I will hope. I will move steadily towards what I know is good, and right. I will have faith. These past two weeks have been excruciating in their own way, filled with frightening words and hard choices, the bottom slipping out from beneath all I worked so tirelessly to secure for my future and my son’s happiness. I have had faith, the kind of faith that did move a mountain, one bucketful at a time. I’m still shoveling. But I know I’m going to break through to the other side and continue on the path that is meant to be.

Happy birthday, radiant girl. I have faith that you will find joy. And if there’s anything I can do to help you on that path, hand me a bucket, would you? I’ll always stand by your side.