In the span of a moment

On a cold and brutally windy Saturday, Darren and I traversed off the beaten path on a very specific mission.  We were trekking along the Pennsylvania Turnpike, sans children, and wanted to stop at Shenksville.  Whereas few people had likely heard of this unassuming little burg ten years ago, by September 12, 2001, it became a part of our daily vocabulary for on September 11, 40 passengers stepped up to the plate and did what it took to prevent a disaster.

Shenksville, Pennsylvania is truly a rural area, and this observation comes from someone who lives in Amishland to begin with.  The road is quite narrow and fraught with bumpy peril.  If you didn’t know there was a national park here, well, you wouldn’t know.

The field in which Flight 93 crashed was formerly home to a strip mine, quite common throughout the Pennsylvania coal region and ugly beyond measure.  The temporary memorial and exhibit are actually housed in a building left over from the mining operation.

There is a quiet respect here, eerie and somber.

Simply put, the plane flew over these hills….

and crashed here.

The trees still bear silent witness to all that occurred as that aircraft came screaming from the air and exploded on impact as 7,000 gallons of jet fuel burst into flames.

Here in the place, the atmosphere is redolent of the courage it took for these ordinary individuals to make a choice that would make them heros.  Because as they learned in those final moments, in the span of a breath, a single heartbeat, everything can change and from that moment on, nothing will ever, ever be the same.

I remember in those days following this terrible disaster the sense of community we felt as a country.  The horror of learning the human cost that was laid down.  The worry we felt wondering what might happen next.  But yes, community as we were all, or at least most, united in a common bond; those left behind.  As I look around me nearly ten years later, it’s really astounding how quickly we push our thoughts from that time to the side.  Yes, we must move on.  That’s certainly right and good but while we’ve promised never to forget, we’ve continued on our collective paths of me-centric “step on whoever it takes to get to the top” behavior.  I wonder if we truly did *get* it.

What I do know is this:  Everything changes.  Nothing stays the same.  We can remain stagnant and mourn for what will never be or we can learn from what we’ve seen and enjoy what we have on this day.  It’s a choice, one that must be made consciously.  For that reason, I think fields like this are important.  National park buildings that are stocked with Kleenex for our use have a purpose.  Sitting in a small room with 15 other strangers in utter silence as we all explore an exhibit has its exquisite beauty.

There is a very profound and meaningful feeling here.  I wonder if it is because we all, every one of us, remember where we were and what we were doing on that fateful morning in September 2001.  We still feel that loss.  The air is heavy with grief and empathy for those who gave their lives but it’s a good lesson for us all.  Some things are bigger than we are and in the natural, we’ll never know their purpose.  Still, they make us who we are and mold us into who we’ll become.  That’s what this life is about, in a sense:  becoming. And with that in mind, tomorrow can be greater than today.  If we allow it to be so.  It’s our choice as individuals.  So please, choose wisely.