Today candles will be lit in remembrance of one of the darkest--some would argue THE darkest of days in our history.
But one particular face was lit by candlelight for a different reason as a household on a quiet, tree-lined street in Lexington, Kentucky, remembered and celebrated Sept. 11, 2001.
After more than a dozen years of marriage and no children, they had nearly given up their dream of filling their house with the laughter of a child. Then, soon after New Year 2001, they learned their prayer had been answered. She was pregnant.
On their way to the hospital one morning, they heard the news that would write a new history and forge a new future for the world. By that afternoon, their own personal history and future had been forever altered.
On a day of such mourning, their joy was immeasurable. Their baby girl was perfect.
On her first birthday, her father lit firecrackers in celebration. A few days later, the local paper included a letter to the editor criticizing the neighbors who had the nerve to celebrate Sept. 11. As I mentioned to a friend earlier, the author had apparently overlooked the possiblity of joy coming from that day, so dark was the grief that held so many.
Yesterday, one of the ministers at our church commented that on that day, and in the years sense, there were birthdays, anniversaries, graduations--celebrations of life and love. Out of the darkness, light.
Today, the little girl blew out her candle, but the light was not gone. It was there in her face and in the faces of those of us celebrating with her--life, love...God still with us.
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