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Is everyone here? I have no words: no words are adequate. But we need each other...

Sara, Janet, Melissa, Van, Val, Cynthia, Lita, Stefanie, Jennifer, Amilie, Cathy, Dave, Karen, Debbi, Trish, Mary, Missy, Kim, Shelley ... old friends from long-archived boards and lurkers and new visitors.

I'm going to go light some candles on the dining-table I think: one for each of you. Maybe the light of your friendship will help hold back the night.

Here...

My Mom called this morning to check on us. She asked if I was shocked. I wasn't. Frightened, yes; shocked, no.

I am the emergency contact parent for several children and it's nice to know that the system works.

Aiy, Pamela. I'm very touched by your post. It helps to feel friends reaching out. Parts of the body are injured and the whole body reacts.

Sara

Thanks, Pamela...

Duncan's school had short service this morning and talked about what happened. He was, frankly, rather bored with it all until I mentioned that his Uncle Bill worked nearby but was OK, and that his Uncle Richard used to work in the Pentagon but didn't anymore. This sort of made it real for him. He told me "I'm sad about those buildings. I don't want those people to die. I like people all over the world-- even the bullies." I have to bow to his innocence and love. As Jesus said, it's easy to love those who love you. I hope I can keep in mind that I should also love the "bullies" who do things like this.

It's just such a loss, not just of lives, but of our collective innocence and of a bit of our humanity.

I'm here too...

Sara, I'm glad you've posted a couple of times; I was concerned for you and your family.

Right now I feel like nothing will ever be the same and I grieve for what seems like a loss of innocence.

Cynthia

Thank you, Pamela. Thank you for all the times you've

May we all find peace.

Stefanie

Lost in a sea of confusion here, physically fine but emotionally and spiritually challenged (M)

And if these people, when we find out who they are, claim to do this in the name of God (Allah), what does that mean to my already shaky faith? I am already trying to shake the "why"s that immediately come- Why did God let this happen? Is this really part of The Plan? Or are we really all alone here, if he will not protect us? I try to return to what I believe- but I am not even sure what that is.

Trying to not let my two-year-old see my sadness. Worrying about the child I carry inside...can she sense this in me? Am I disturbing her last perfect time with my inability to deal with the craziness of this all? This is not the world I thought I was bringing them into.

I worry about retalition against Muslims in the U.S. I worry that the whole country will give in to fear and anger. And if they do, what will my response be?

Sorry to vent this way here. Just trying to sort things out in my own mind. Thanks so much, Pamela, for thinking of me, of us all. We must join together if we are to remain true to the great commandment- "Love your neighbor as yourself."

Trish

Understanding the West Bank...

Several years ago my rare business trips across the electrical divide took me to Boston. I had a half-day after the meetings to sight-see, and went of course to Boston harbour to see the famous site of the Boston Tea Party. There is an excellent interpretive centre there, telling in detail the tumultuous history of the years immediately preceding the U.S. declaration of independence.

As I read the accounts: houses and fields of law-abiding tax-payers burned by secessionist neighbours; secessionists jailed or killed for refusing to pay taxes; business pillaged and vandalized for collaborating with the other side, I became horrified by the human cost represented by this struggle. There was *no* right choice. In that era before social safety nets and abundant farm production, the loss of a years crop meant winter starvation. A sea-captain whose cargo was thrown overboard might spend years in debtors prison, unable to pay his principals for their loss. A man who lost his life or freedom for collaborating with the revolutionaries faced the knowledge that his wife and children would be left utterly destitute, his property being seized by the crown. There was *no* decision an average middle-class colonist like you or me could make, that would surely safeguard his family for even just the coming winter.

While I was mourning the human suffering hidden by those unspeakably difficult choices, the interpretive centre staff -- summer students employed by the tourism site -- came whooping down into the display area, handing out red and yellow feathers to the tourists and inviting them to participate in a mock-reenactment storming of the little tea-clipper. They spoke eloquently about the glories of American Patriotism, the honour of the secessionists, the cowardice of the scurvy collaborators. The whooping, celebrating crowd made off onto the ship and gleefully re-enacted throwing several families livelihood into the bay.

The whooping, gleeful celebrators on the West Bank are not celebrating loss of life, broken families, parentless children, devasted humanity, any more than the Boston tourists were. They are looking at a steel and glass building, a symbol, a lifeless thing. No-one is helping them look through the symbol to the reality of suffering -- and if someone did, I believe that they would weep as I did that day in Boston harbour.

My people, exiled Scots who fought and lost Scotland's last war and were deported wholesale in bondage to a rocky and inhospitable foreign shore, know about cherishing hatred and passing it to their children. When I sing my children the songs of the '45, I'm laying the foundation on which they too could build hereditary feuds and intolerance. Every individual I have ever met of the "enemy" Clans has been a decent, normal, mostly-good human being. But as a *whole*, if I stop telling the story of that Clan's perfidity, I lose part of my link to my grandfather, and his grandfather, and the history and culture of a truly noble people. BUT -- the hatred is *not* part of my people's nobility. It is a stain on our culture.

I sing our songs much less often now, and I mention our ancient grudges even less. It is time for humanity to grow up, to look at our history honestly, and count the cost even of our national pride and victory. We cannot exact such honesty from others, but we can strive for it for ourselves.

Pamela, Love: Would you post this on CD? And may I have your permission...

Yes, go ahead. I will go post it on CD. <nt>

I'm here. Thanks for thinking of me. I have been thinking about everyone here too. (more)

(((BIG HUGS))) to everyone. I know we all need them.

Jennifer

Here, and your West Bank post (m)

Here.

Shanti.

Here. and many things seem unimportant today.

I don't worry too much about the town I live in. It is small. But I work in East Lansing and DH travels all over. We can take nothing for granted. I stay away from certain landmarks, now, when commuting. I woke up with a knot in my stomach this morning, and a heavy heart. My BIL works near the Pentagon. His office used to be closer to it. DH was scared because he thought BIL worked *in* the Pentagon. He is OK. But he is now retiring from Govt. work, wants to look for something in the private sector.

I hope you added one for yourself...

BTW, I did notify PP that the new icon looks like a burning tower and that they misspelled "memoriam." They're harried, it's the thought that counts.

Thank you. (nt)

Late in coming but I'm here (m)

Be well and thanks for your posts at the other boards, an island of real compassion in a sea of revenge.

Namaste and blessings,

Kim

Pamela, you've written some beautiful posts this week

Thank you so much for thinking of all of us. It has been such a horrible week.