Tim and I were in Washington DC the morning of September 11, 2001.
We were given a most generous gift – a trip to Washington DC to attend David Barton’s Wallbuilder’s Pastors & Wives Tour of the Capital. Ironically, this tour was to be held on Tuesday, September 11, 2001. Including a guided tour of the Capital to recount our rich, spiritual heritage. Hosted by our pastor and his wife – we were celebrating a decade of service to the church and launching my husband into a new ministry/career path.
Our long, held dream to visit Washington DC was coming to fruition!
With 10 children at home we rarely traveled without them. I mean rare-ly! My ‘happy place’ was home with our children. I won’t lie – this trip, even in its grandeur, was hard. I didn’t want to leave our little ones. Micah was only 15 months old. I weaned him in time for this trip. The morning of September 10, I awoke in the early morning to nurse him – for the last time – tucked him back in bed, grabbed my luggage and left for the quiet ride in the dark – to the airport. I was 41 years old and knew this would likely be my last opportunity with one so young.
When offered this trip – I wanted to go – but thought a shorter-version might fit our family’s needs. The tour was September 11. I suggested to Tim we fly out early Tuesday morning (9/11) and meet up with our friends just in time for the tour. This seemed like a great idea to me – and it would give me another night at home. He declined. I came back with my idea again, charged with emotional appeal. He could see past my feelings and knew this would be a trip of our dreams – once he got me out of the house. We both knew the kids were in good hands.
Hours later, on a warm, rainy afternoon, we landed at Reagan International Airport. Dropped off our bags in Georgetown (a stones throw from the Pentagon) and headed to The Smithsonian by Taxi. This visit was surreal. We took in every moment: the crowded subway, George Washington University, right next to our hotel, and our destination – the National Mall. It was beautiful to behold. This long, grassy mall stretched past the row of infamous museums – which house the artifacts we had only seen in history books. We ran through the rain across the wet lawn and slipped into the museum. Ever glancing up to see the ominous Washington Monument. This trip was bigger than life for me.
I love museums!
From Lincoln’s top hat to the Hope Diamond we whizzed past every treasure we could see until they made us leave.
Closing time.
The evening of September 10th – I will remember as long as I live. Like a movie you’ve seen over and over. I’ve replayed these details countless times.
Monday evening was a celebration for us. Our pastor and his dear wife had been mentors and leaders in our lives for so long we hardly remember life before their influence. Our children had grown-up and our family prospered in their humble, loving church. Tim had served by his side for years. There was a new day coming – an end to a season. We were looking back and looking ahead in thanks and anticipation. Dinner reservations were made at a fine restaurant. Everyone around us looked important. Was it our imagination or were we among greatness?
After a leisurely dinner we strolled the streets of DC together, the four of us. The moon pinpointed on this vital city – like a flashlight. The sky around it – deep blue and crystal clear.
There was a kind of ‘hush’ in the air. I had never felt more at peace - more secure.
I must confess, I’m a die-hard patriot, postured as a stay-at-home mom. I love this ‘sweet land of liberty’. I choke-up when we sing the National Anthem at ballgames – it gets to me every time. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. The Pilgrims are my heroes. I told my high school classmates that I would be the first woman president. Really, I did! I love this land. To walk in the footsteps of those who forged this nation – to see, first hand, the place of its political birth – was a dream come true.
Once back at the hotel – I called to check on the kids. Tim was right – they were fine. Forcing myself to sleep, I finally drifted off. The anticipation of it all was bigger than life. I felt like a kid on Christmas Eve.
All was still – all was bright. A silent night – indeed.
To be continued …read the rest of our story at Raising Patriots – my new blog!

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