The Case of the Dog-Napper

The following is an experiment that I played with for my writing group. I took one of my favorite memories of Erica growing up, and wrote it in story form. The story was featured on our website, but I included it in it's entirety below.

 

Happy Reading!!

 

I sat on the step of my front porch, watching my four-year old daughter, Erica, as she was playing with our neighbor's dog. It was time to make dinner, everyone would be hungry and complaining soon, but I just couldn't tear myself away from watching the girl and dog. The sounds of her laughter, intermingled with the joyous yips of the little black puppy bounced off the grass and seemed to fill the culdesac which we lived on. They were currently chasing each other around in circles, the dog making almost instantaneous changes in direction and reversing the circular pattern, teasing my giggling girl who could not possibly keep up. Her short legs tripped over the grass, the exertion creating a ruddy pink flush in her round cheeks.

"Ebony!" Erica called out, gasping between laughs, as the pup darted again in another tangent, sending Erica spinning.

I laughed too. Nothing could warm a mother's heart more than seeing her child blissfully happy. The stress from the day, all the pent-up frustration from working with irritable patients, along with the physical exhaustion associated with leaning over a dental chair for nine hours, all seemed to melt away, dripping off my person and depositing itself onto the pavement below my feet. The longer I soaked up the joy shared between my daughter and the neighbor's dog, the more at peace I felt with the world.

We had only just pulled into the driveway, arriving home at the end of a long day. Before the car was even in park, Ebony was outside Erica's door yapping excitedly. Erica quickly slid the door open and was off playing with her little buddy. This was the new routine. Our neighbor, Denise, was always out in the yard, working in her garden while Ebony would chase insects and run laps around the dogwood tree with the white blossoms. As soon as she saw our car coming around the corner she would start barking and jumping excitedly in our driveway. Then, when a car door was opened she was jumping on our legs and yipping happily. It was our own little welcome party every evening.

Tonight I hadn't even made it into the house. Too tired to care, I had sat right on the porch step in my grey and blue scrubs.

Obviously hearing the commotion, my husband Eric came out the front door and sat down next to me on the step.

"What are you doing?" he asked, even though the answer was apparent.

"Sitting," I replied, and then sighed blissfully.

We watched the two play-pals scampering around in the grass. Denise was still weeding in her garden, but she would look up every once in a while and let out a little chortle of amusement.

"That kid needs a dog," Eric said for probably the hundredth time.

I sighed again, this time not so peacefully. We had been over this so many times.

"Every kid needs a dog," Eric muttered under his breath.

"Hey, not every kid," I said. "I never had a dog growing up, and look how I turned out."

"Yeah, look how you turned out, you animal-hater," he responded, but he chuckled and bumped my shoulder with his teasingly.

"I am not an animal-hater," I retorted. "It's not my fault that I'm deathly allergic to all of them."

"Nah, you're just pretending," he said. "You're just faking all the sneezing, drippy noses, and red eyes."

"Hey, what can I say? I'm good at what I do."

Although he teased me about it, he knew that owning a pet was not an option for us. We had tried it before with abysmal results. Seven years earlier we had acquired an adorable black kitten, with soft white paws and a star on his nose. I had only been able to tolerate living with him for a year before my allergies became so severe that we had to give him away.

When my oldest daughter, Heidi, was ten years old we got her a black hamster which she named Little Bear.  The kids had a lot of fun chasing the little fur ball around the house until the week that my daughter was gone to fifth grade camp. I neglected to feed or water the poor creature and it didn't survive. I almost bought her a new hamster to cover up my mistake, but then decided that she would probably figure out the truth immediately. We held a simple burial service in the back yard instead, placing three large stones in the soft dirt to mark the spot.

Thinking that it was a no-brainer, our latest venture was an aquarium. The fish did not last very long, however, owing mostly to the fact that one fish in particular seemed to enjoy eating the others. The kids soon lost interest in the quiet, non-furry and non-cuddly creatures, so that when the last fish finally died we got rid of the tank altogether.

No, it was much better to have a next-door type of pet. Similar to the joys of being a grandparent, with all the fun of spoiling the little tykes and none of the responsibilities associated with it. Erica could play with the dog all she wanted, but we did not have to walk her, or feed her, or clean up her messes in the grass. We could simply give the dog a farewell pat on the head and go into the pet-free environment of our house.

Except that Erica never seemed to want to leave Ebony. She asked to play with her all the time, and when it was time to come inside for the night, a serious meltdown would occur. She loved that dog and Ebony loved her right back.

The next day I was washing the dishes in the kitchen, while Erica was playing outside in the backyard. It was a beautiful day and all my doors and windows were open to take advantage of the cool breezes which would occasionally sweep through. Suddenly I heard the front door slam shut and the unmistakable clicking of puppy paws on the hard wood floor.  I turned to find Ebony rounding the corner into the kitchen, with Erica right on her heals.

"Ebony's here to play with me!" Erica stated proudly.

"Umm, I don't think so," I said, bending down and picking up the little dog. Ebony gave a cheerful yip and licked my hand.

I took the dog out through the front door, thinking that Denise was probably working in the garden and that Ebony had followed Erica into the house. There was no one outside.

"That's strange," I thought. I started to walk across the yard and up our neighbor's driveway. Before I reached her front door, however, Denise came running out, breathless.

"Are you missing something?" I asked, laughing, as Ebony squirmed out of my arms and ran over to her, yipping and jumping on her legs.

"You won't believe what just happened!" Denise said, after greeting Ebony with a loving scratch behind her soft ears.

"What?" I asked.

"I was napping on the sofa, when I was woken by Ebony barking at the end of the hall. Suddenly Erica walks right past me, picks up Ebony and takes her out through the front door. For a few minutes I thought that I was dreaming, but then I realized that I was awake and that Ebony was gone!"

My jaw must have seriously dropped to the pavement.

"Erica was in your house?" I asked, dumb-founded. "And she took Ebony?"

"I guess so. It was all so strange, because I had just been asleep...."

I could not have been more mortified. "Oh, Denise! I am so sorry! I will need to talk to her about this. This is unacceptable."

Denise seemed to take stock of the situation then, and started to chuckle. "It's okay, really. I know she loves that dog. She probably just wanted to play with her."

I apologized all over again, letting her know that I was taking it seriously. It would never happen again.

Back in the house, Erica stood in front of me, her face downcast and tear-stained.  I was just explaining to her that we cannot go into our neighbor's houses, and we certainly cannot take their puppies home with us, no matter how much we love them.

"But Ebony wanted to play with me!" she cried, her bright blue eyes brimming with large wet tears.

I sighed, not sure if my message got through to her.

When Eric got home later that night and was told about the puppy-napping incident, he immediately began to laugh.

"This isn't funny!" I cried. "Our daughter is turning into a felon, and all you can do is laugh?"

"I still can't believe she walked into their house," he replied. "Denise must have been in shock."

I couldn't help but chuckle over the scene playing through my head. Denise, in her sleepy state seeing a phantom child whisk away her precious little pup, and then jolting awake several minutes later to discover that it was her precocious neighbor girl.

"Maybe we need to get her a dog of her own," Eric said, unhelpfully. Again.

"You know that we can't," I said. "We would fall in love with it, and then I would get so sick I couldn't live in my own house. Then we would have to give it away and it would break all our hearts."

Eric sighed.

Over the next few days I kept a vigilant watch over Erica, only allowing her to play in the fenced backyard, but she proved to be a highly capable escape artist.

The doorbell rang, and there was Denise standing with Erica and Ebony.

"Erica!" I cried. "You were just in the back yard!"

Apparently, Erica had shaken the gate open on our side of the yard, found a hole in Denise's fence which was covered with vines and a low hanging tree, and slipped into their back yard. She had then walked right through her back door into the kitchen and started to take Ebony out the front door with her. This time, Denise caught her.

What was I going to do with my child? Denise laughed and was very nice about everything, but I just wanted to sink into the earth. I was so embarrassed.

We had many long talks about going into other people's houses, uninvited. Then I started to get paranoid and had to cover the topic of stranger danger and not going near anyone at all. What if she marched right in to someone's house that was dangerous, or if she walked off with someone who was supposedly looking for their "lost puppy?" My paranoia seemed to rub off on her, and she was constantly on the lookout for "bad people." When we were driving in the car one day, Erica heard police sirens and said that "the police were going to get the bad people, so they don't take me away." I knew at that point that it had gone far enough.

We needed a new tactic.

A lovely pink tricycle, decorated with several popular princesses and shining tassels streaming from the handlebars was just the trick.

Now as I sit on the front porch, the culdesac is once again full of my daughter's laughter. She is pedaling merrily on her princess bike, and although it is still difficult for her little legs to push the pedals in a full rotation, she doesn't seem to notice. Ebony is jumping around her feet, making her progress slow, but the yips and laughs make it clear that the two of them are enjoying themselves. Ebony starts off in a quick lap around the bike, egging Erica on to go faster. She pushes her legs down harder, propelling the bike forward in a smooth and quick movement and Erica squeals in delight.

I close my eyes and soak in the sounds, letting the outside world just melt away.

Erica, with her buddy Ebony.

 

The above story is based on one of Heather's favorite memories of her daughter growing up, written in story form. All characters are real people and a real dog. No animals were injured during the making of this story, except of course the hamster, the dead fish, and the poor cat whose fate is unknown.

Cluttered Mind

I posted this picture on my writing group's Facebook page a while back. I love it. Makes me feel better about my non-empty desk (and house, for that matter).

Yes, my house is cluttered and is a mess, but according to Albert Einstein it means that my mind is so full of ideas it can hardly contain them.

I'm not sure if Einstein's "clutter" consisted of the same type of clutter that resides in my mind, though. Somehow I don't think that he spent an exorbidant amount of time going over grocery lists, doctor's appointments, the daily schedule of six separate people in the same household, or seventh grade math assignments.

Then again, I could be wrong....

Tiffany's Journey

 

In January Eric and I started attending the missionary discussions with a girl that I had never met before, Tiffany Clark. The first time I met her was at the church after she had gotten off work at Wendy's, which is just up the street. It was a gray and drizzly evening, and Tiffany came rolling up to the door in her rollerblades, with a huge set of headphones on, and with a lot of spunk. I immediately thought to myself, "Well, this is going to be interesting!" Little did I know at that time what an amazing experience I was about to have with someone who appeared to be my total opposite.

 

Tiffany was looking for truth, and she was intrigued with the church. She had so many questions. I was immediately impressed with her voracious appetite for knowledge. She wanted to know everything, and with every answer we gave her, she would nod her head and say, "I like that. It makes sense."

 

Tiffany had come from a life of difficulty. She had been homeless as a teenager, pregnant, and abandoned by nearly everyone she knew. She went through so many trials at such a young age, and yet through it all developed an inner strength and resilience. I admired her right away for her drive to find truth and meaning, and her amazing sense of integrity to not involve herself in the garbage that surrounded her.

 

The longer we went with the discussions, the more Tiffany wanted to be baptized. I couldn't be more thrilled. The first step, however, was to marry the man that she was living with, and the father of her two youngest girls.

 

Tiffany and Kiel make a wonderful couple. In Kiel, Tiffany has found unconditional love, total commitment to their family, and a solid support for her. Although he has not shown interest in the church yet, he has been completely supportive of Tiffany as she was exploring her interest in the church and eventually wanted to become a member.

 

The thing that sticks in my mind the most that Tiffany said about Kiel is that he loves it when Tiffany and the girls go to church, because he can feel a difference in their home when they return. What a beautiful comment on what an impact the church can make in a family, even if it is a part-member family.

 

Tiffany and Kiel were married on June 21, 2014 in Brother and Sister Jensen's backyard. It was a gorgeous day, with a beautiful setting. What a special way to unite this family!

 

With the help of several ladies from the Ward, we put together a sweet little party. The decorations were simple. The bride was lovely. The food was delicious, and the spirit which was in that backyard was precious. Several of Tiffany and Kiel's family members and friends were able to attend the ceremony, along with a number of people from our Ward. It was wonderful to have so much support for this new family!

 



 

The elders were very excited for this wedding, since it meant that Tiffany could take the next step and be baptized!

 

 

Tiffany's second daughter Kaylee was baptized first, on June 15th, 2014. It was a really special day for her, and I was so proud of her for taking that first step to becoming a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

 



Then it was Tiffany's turn! Tiffany was baptized on July 6th, 2014. It truly was an amazing experience to witness her baptism. The Spirit bore testimony to me of how sacred this ordinance was, and how much it meant to Tiffany. As I stood on the side of the font, watching my dear friend be fully immersed in the water, just as Jesus Christ himself had done two millennia ago, my heart was brimming with pride and love. I knew that our Heavenly Father was so proud of her and the decision she made to be baptized. I knew that even though Tiffany had struggled through so much heartache in her young life, the Savior was watching over her and was with her for every step of her journey. He was preparing her and her heart for this special moment.

 



 

I was able to assist Tiffany as she stepped out of the font. Although she was dripping wet we embraced in a hug and I couldn't help but exclaim in excited whispers, "You did it! You did it!" Later on I discovered that our gleeful exclamations had echoed around the font and that everyone who had attended the baptism were witness to our joyful moment. I heard from many people on how sweet the Spirit was which was present in the room, and that our greeting was an incredibly touching moment. It was a moment that I will never forget.

 

 

Tiffany had started the missionary discussions with two sister missionaries, Sister Adams and Sister Garn. Both were able to attend the baptism, which was incredibly special. Sister Garn, who flew up for the event from her home in Utah, gave a beautiful talk on baptism. I was privileged to give the talk on the Holy Ghost.

 

  

The elders who completed Tiffany's discussions were Elder Paul and Elder Galante. They did such a wonderful job bringing the Spirit into all the discussions with both Tiffany and Kaylee. I was constantly impressed with their zealous dedication, their hard work, and the absolute love which they were able to share with us.

 

I feel a special connection with each of these missionaries who played such an important role in Tiffany's journey. They were all in our home so much, they almost feel like a permanent fixture there. What a wonderful blessing it has been to have them in our home.

 

I will forever be grateful for the opportunity which I have had to be a small part of Tiffany's journey to baptism. No one could have possibly guessed that two people who are so different, with such different backgrounds and different personalities could become such wonderful friends. Tiffany is not only my friend, though, she is my sister.

 

We are sisters of the heart and sisters in the gospel, linked forever through love and sacrifice, healing and hope, renewal and rebirth.

 

My sister, my friend.

 



Tee Shirt Designer

You're Just My Type

 

 Last week I made some iron-on transfer shirts.

 

I'd rather be at Pemberley.

 

What can I say, I'm dorky like that.

 

Keep Calm, Write On

 

I've gotten several comments on them already, so I must not be the only dork out there. Too bad they probably won't last through very many washes.

 

typewriter keys

 

So then I decided to take my favorite image and start up a new tee shirt campaign for my writing group! Here is my lovely creation!

 

Order your shirt HERE.

 

  I am super excited to launch this new tee shirt campaign with a new fun design! If you would like to order your own, please see the link attached to the image above. Featuring a vintage typewriter and a note saying, "You're just my type!" this is a fun way to show your love for the Six Chicks!

Shirts are available in women's sizes, as well as unisex, and offer a variety of styles. You can choose a V-neck shirt, hoody sweatshirt, or go for the traditional tee! As before, the shirts will be available for a limited time, so get yours today!

Super CUTE, and they are only $12! Plus free shipping if you have it delivered to me! I can't wait to get mine!!

I Want Jesus To Walk With Me

Last weekend I had the privilege of attending an amazing concert put on by the Ensign Symphony and Chorus, with special guest Alex Boye. What a wonderful evening! I have know about Alex Boye' for a while now, since he started singing as a member of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir (of which he just recently retired from) and also recorded "Peponi" ("Paradise") with one of my favorite groups The Piano Guys. When I found out he would be coming to Seattle I knew that I had to make it to that concert!

Alex Boye' performing with The Piano Guys

Alex's story is an amazing one in itself. He told the audience a little about his history. Of Nigerian decent, he had a difficult childhood growing up in a rough neighborhood in London. Abandoned at age eleven, he lived homeless on the streets of London until he was placed in a number of foster homes. At the age of 16 while working at McDonald's he became acquainted with a pair of missionaries. He began taking the missionary discussions and was eventually baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He served a two-year mission for the Church in Bristol, England. As he prepared to return home, his mission president mentioned that he hoped that Alex would pursue a career in music, as it was an integral part of who he was.

When Alex returned home from his mission he was signed with a recording agency to be part of a boy band, and began touring around Europe. He said that although he gained a lot of experience with this venture, performing with big name acts like George Michael, he felt like he was surrounded by a lot of negative things which were not bringing him closer to God. He said that he didn't think that this was what his mission president had had in mind during his counsel to him. Alex eventually left the band, an act which required a lot of sacrifice on his part, as attorneys were brought in by his record label for breaking his contract. They stripped him of everything he had: apartment, car, savings. Eventually, without a penny to his name, he made his way to the United States where he settled in Salt Lake City, unsure of what to do next with his life.

It was while he was in Salt Lake that he started performing as a special guest for different groups, and eventually was invited to perform with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, first as a guest performer, and finally as a member of the choir.

Alex told a very touching story about the song that means the most to him. He was asked to sing "I Want Jesus to Walk With Me" with the choir, and to add his African flair to the song. The song was such a success that he was asked to travel to Africa for a music video shoot. He was excited to go. He and the film crew traveled to Ghana, without having any preconceived ideas of where they should do the shoot. They left it up to chance and the Spirit to help direct where to go.

Alex was drawn to a beautiful old building nestled in the rocks on the coast of Ghana and asked about doing the shoot there. He was told that they would probably be denied. Even Oprah Winfrey and President Barack Obama himself had had a difficult time cutting through all the red tape necessary to secure filming on the location at previous times. The location was a building of great historical significance, being the largest holding place on the coast for slaves which were taken to America and England. The prisoners were held captive there, crammed by the thousands into holding cells which were meant to contain hundreds. The conditions were unimaginable. Starving and disease-ridden, they were held for up to six months before they were loaded onto boats and sent throughout the world.

Alex knew that this was the place which they were meant to film the video. It took a lot of work to get permission, but with what he felt like was some divine intervention, it was made possible.

As the film crew climbed down into the depths of the prison, it was evident that they were walking on holy ground. Alex said that as he looked up through the tunnels he could see the sky, and the place from where the slaves' captors worshipped.

An intense feeling overwhelmed Alex as he stood there in the bowels of the prison, but it wasn't one of despair or anguish like you might expect. It was an immense feeling of God's love. He bore a strong testimony of how much he could feel God's love for each of His children, and the power of the Atonement, which gives us the peace and comfort we need through our trials, no matter how big or small they may be. The Spirit was very strong in the auditorium as Alex bore his testimony. I was deeply touched by his spirit and the message which he shared. He then performed the song which meant so much to him.

I felt so blessed to have had the opportunity to feel of this great man's spirit in person. The example which he is to the world is a testimony to me of how God brings miracles through the meek. Alex had a difficult start in life. Many could have said that he would amount to nothing. But through his continued perseverance and unquenchable faith in God, he was able to rise above the darkness and enter the light of Christ, allowing us a glimpse of that brilliant light through him.

Watch Out World!

 

My little girl graduated from Cascade High School on June 14th, 2014.

 

I can hardly believe it's true. The years have flown by.

 

 

My parents were able to drive up for Heidi's graduation, and I am so glad that they did! We had so much fun all weekend with them. My mom kept asking me how it felt to have a high school graduate and I could hardly answer. It is so surreal. She knew exactly what I meant, though.

 

My dad took some beautiful black and white images of Heidi while they were here that weekend. Of course, he was working with a gorgeous subject, so that didn't hurt! It meant a lot to be able to share this neat experience with them. I know that it meant a lot to Heidi as well.

 

Heidi leaves in the fall to start a new adventure of her own, attending classes at BYU-Idaho. She is excited and admittedly nervous. She is going to do great, though. I am so excited for the next phase in her life.

 

We love you Heidi!

Seminary Graduation

The last month has been such a whirlwind of events that I haven't been able to keep up!

 

On June 8th Heidi graduated from four years of Seminary. I am so proud of her in her willingness to sacrifice sleep in exchange for something so much more valuable. This girl was in class at 6:00 am every morning for four years, always with a positive attitude and a smile on her face.

 



Lance and Linda Lamprecht were Heidi's seminary teachers this last year. She loved them and the Spirit which they brought to their amazing lessons each morning. Brother Lamprecht was Heidi's teacher last year as well.



Alma Snel was Heidi's teacher for her Freshman and Sophomore years. He brought a lot of life, fun stories, and a spiritual witness of the truthfulness of the gospel to his lessons each day.

 

Heidi said that she was proud of graduating from high school, but that the graduation which meant the most to her and was of the most value to her as a person was her seminary graduation. She developed a strong foundation for her testimony in these last four years, and I couldn't be more proud of the young woman she has become.

 

Congratulations Heidi!!

The Land of the Free

This is a personal essay which was posted on my writing group's website yesterday. I hope you enjoy!!


Yesterday was Independence Day. What a glorious day to celebrate the beginning of our wonderful country! To celebrate, we organized a block party for all our neighbors, held in the culdesac in front of our house. Our next door neighbor concocted the idea with us, and we spread the word, knocking on everyone's door to let them know of our plans. After setting up a canopy in the street, and covering several food tables with bright cloths, our neighbors began to trickle out of their homes, with bowls of potato salad and platters of fruit in hand. Several of them wheeled out their barbeque grills and soon the air was full of the scent of smoking charcoal and seared meat.

I sat at a table with the couple who lives down the street from us, laughing with them as they fed their little toddler boy sliced tomatoes, and wondering why I had never met them before. The husband, who I now finally know to be named Joe, mentioned that he has seen my son Ethan playing soccer a lot. He told us that he wanted to come and offer to play with him, but felt like it might be strange to come and approach Ethan about it when he didn't know him.

Another neighbor's son brought out his pet gecko to show around, and then passed out bubble wands for the little ones to play with.

I discovered that a woman who lives around the corner from me has been a children's book author for thirty years. When my husband Eric told her that publishing was a dream of mine someday, she got excited and told me that we have a lot to talk about.

It felt good to get to know my neighbors. We always waved in greeting before as we sped out of our driveways and on to our daily lives, but now I will probably actually stop and talk to them. We will be better equipped to look out for each other, our properties, and our children running around in the culdesac just because we know more about each other now.

Last night, as I sat in the safety and comfort of a beautiful home, surrounded by the exhilarated spirits of my children hyped up on sugar and fun from the day's events, and listened to the myriad of explosions and pops coming from a city of celebration, I couldn't help but reflect on all that I am blessed with. I watched the huge fireworks show which occurred in New York City and marveled at the impressive display of artistry, choreographed so perfectly by the "Star Spangled Banner" and finally, "God Bless America."

I thought about what it truly means to be an American.

It means having the freedom to not only dream, but to live your life in a way which allows you to pursue it.

It means having the freedom to worship as you see fit, appreciating all that God has bestowed on this blessed land.

It means having the freedom and means to make a place your own, and if you work hard enough, own a piece of property for yourself.

It means having the freedom to look your children in the eyes and know with all your heart that the sky is the limit for their potential, as long they are willing to work for it.

It means having the freedom to question our leaders and legislation, because they are held accountable to us.

It means having the freedom to be protected from lawlessness when we obey and honor the laws which have been established to safeguard our rights.

It means having the freedom to have an opinion and to be able to express it.

It means having the freedom to make our own lives, in our own little blocks, and enjoy the companionship and protection which comes from making a neighborhood a family.

I thought about the time that I had felt the most connected to my fellow Americans. It occurred in the aftermath of our recent history's most tragic event, the destruction of the World's Trade Center buildings in New York City.

Like most people who were old enough to remember, September 11, 2001 will forever be etched in my memory.  The day and the feelings associated with it are so vivid it seems just like yesterday.

The morning was spent with me frantically getting ready for work.  Ethan had just celebrated his first birthday a few days before, so I was still in the difficult process of preparing a baby for daycare and getting my five-year-old Heidi off to Kindergarten.  As I was running out the door, Eric mentioned that it looked like there was an accident at the World Trade Center.  I didn't really know what that meant.  I don't think I really even knew what the World Trade Center was at that time.

By the time I got to work, people were glued to the television in our front office, watching the replay of the plane crashing into the first tower.  I couldn't believe what I was seeing.  It seemed like such a freak accident.  Then my boss speculated, "What if it wasn't an accident?"  My mind couldn't make that leap.  It still can't, really.

We proceeded through our scheduled day, seeing our patients and talking about what was going on in New York with them.  Then the second plane hit.....

Then the first tower crumbled into dust....We were all so shocked, I don't think any of us spoke for several minutes.  I just remember crying and thinking, "All those people....."

As the events of the day progressed, including listening to the audio from the plane that was taken back by the passengers, hearing of the Pentagon being hit, and watching firefighters running into the smoke and ruins of the first tower, to their deaths for 343 of them, it was like watching a horror movie.  Only this was very, very real.

I went home and hugged my babies, so grateful for my family and our safety, but afraid of what the future would bring.

No, I will never forget that day, or the people who perished in those airplanes, at the Pentagon, or in the World Trade Center buildings.  There were so many heroes, and acts of selflessness.  And I will never forget those who answered the call to serve their country and defend our freedoms.  Their ultimate sacrifices have enabled us to continue to enjoy our freedom of speech, right to bear arms, right to worship how we may, right to elect our own leaders, and many more.

I say to them: THANK YOU

and....I WILL NEVER FORGET!

But along with the images of devastation and destruction, I will always remember the sight of house after house, building after building, proudly displaying our magnificent flag. Right after that event, everyone that I knew and everywhere that I looked immediately put out their flags to show their support and solidarity. The red, white, and blue was more than just a pennant flapping in the breeze. It was a symbol of our resolution to come together as American citizens, despite our many differences, and band together in strength, compassion, and commitment.

Independence Day is a chance for us to remember these tender feelings for our country, the blessings which we claim for living on this piece of land, and honor all those who have sacrificed so much to ensure the continuation of our freedoms. We truly are the land of the free, because of the brave. I will do all I can to honor the brave, succor the weak, and cherish the freedoms I enjoy.

I think a few more block parties wouldn't hurt, either.