What Two Blue September Skies Have Taught Me
There are two beautiful blue September skies that I’ll never forget.
One was September 11th, 2001. I was driving my 3-year-old son to his first day of preschool, marveling at the clear, crisp weather and the perfect blue sky that seemed incredibly vibrant that day. I was full of excitement and a little bit nervous for my sweet, smart boy. I hoped he would have a good day, meet new friends and start learning how to navigate the world on his own. On my drive home, I thought a lot about how quickly time passes. In three short years, I’d become a mom of two beautiful boys and my babies were growing up. My oldest was now taking his first steps out of the nest and my youngest, a toddler, was starting to blossom into his personality. Both boys kept me busy and preoccupied, full of the wonder and joy and exhaustion that comes with parenting little ones. They were my world.
When I got home, my mother-in-law called and told me to turn on the TV. I learned the news of the planes crashing into the twin towers in New York City and continued to watch the horrible timeline unfold. I was so thankful that my children were too young to understand the gravity of the situation. But I knew that our country was indelibly changed with the news of this awful event and everything that came after.
The second beautiful blue sky was September 3, 2005. It was Labor Day weekend and my husband and I had taken our boys out in our canoe. Again, the sky was such a deep clear blue that day, filled with those perfect white fluffy clouds that just make you feel happy. I still remember the joy that was in my heart that day as we returned home from our family outing. But when we walked up to our door, we found a note from my mother-in-law that said to call my mom right away. All I remember from that phone conversation were the words "there’s been an accident." My mom told me that my brother was in the burn unit at a hospital in Georgia with serious, life-threatening injuries. After the initial shock, I immediately started making plans to fly down to be with my family. What followed was 12 weeks of anguish, uncertainty, pain, prayer, sadness, and solemn conversations as my parents and I watched my brother fight for life in a battle he would ultimately lose.
Both days are permanently etched in my mind as a "before and after." And what still stands out for me is the contrast between the beautiful blue skies (and my sunny mood) and then the utter despair I felt when learning of these two events that changed my world forever.
All of us are faced with these "before and after" days at some point in our lives. The day we learn of a loved one's passing, or the day we get the diagnosis. The day our partner says they're leaving, or the day our employer tells us we're no longer needed.
What I’ve been trying to learn in the 20 years since 9/11 and my brother’s death is how to let go; how not to attach myself too tightly to my current circumstances. The world has shown me time and time again that nothing is permanent and everything changes, so why tie my happiness to whatever is happening in my life at the moment? And why let painful situations stress me out when I know they’re just temporary?
For me, this is the goal of mindfulness. To move beyond being caught up in our physical or emotional circumstances; to learn to accept what "is" in the moment. It's also my goal when I pray: to be able to release the illusion of control, to ask for the strength to get through whatever it is that I'm dealing with, and to express my gratitude for that moment.
I’m still on this lifelong journey of learning to gently release my grip on the vision of how I think my life, or the world, should be. And I know it will take the rest of my life to learn these lessons. But every time I see a beautiful bright blue sky filled with those "happy little clouds,” it’s a poignant reminder: enjoy this moment, because everything can change in an instant.
