Pain & Purpose in Un-Predictability - A Reflection on 9/11

I couldn’t find the words yesterday, or the day before. My heart was heavy and my chest was tight as I wrestled with the vivid memories and abundant evil on that beautiful September morning. Today, I can find the words. A day late, but, I hope not a dollar short.

The scariest thing for me at 8:47 AM on 9/11 was the unpredictability. At 9:04 AM, the scariest? Unpredictability. At 9:38, the same. Then again at 10:08.

One minute after each of these tragic events I wondered the same thing - where was the bottom of this horror? Where was the end?!

What else was on the hit list? Would we lose access to fuel? Would we lose electricity? Were there grassroots initiatives all across the nation targeting unsuspecting and un-resourced towns? Was there a plan for 9/12?

For 1 hour and 21 minutes we didn’t know when it would stop. We didn’t know the magnitude of the horror we were witnessing. For 1 hour and 21 minutes we wondered WHAT was going to happen next… not “if.”

We’re sensitized to the unpredictability of traffic patterns, moods, broken things, some relationships, aspects of our jobs, cries from our children, and aggravations of our pets. We have a category for car wrecks, natural disasters, devastating diagnoses, and job loss.

On 9/11 of 2001, I realized I rely on predictability like I rely on air. It’s the framework by which I make a to-do list. It’s the structure by which I get excited to meet up with a friend. Predictability allows our souls to rest and our brains to engage thoughtfully. Predictability gives us space to make and keep promises. It gives us room to be people of character who bravely commit to good things.

I lived a predictable life before 9/11; I hope you did too. I made the plans, I lived the commitments, and I jokingly laughed I’d graduate college “providing the crick don’t rise.” (Yes, I have been in the farming towns of Kentucky).

I didn’t really understand that “crick rising” part though. I’d never received a call that my loved one wouldn’t come home. I’d never thought about waking up the next morning without my ability to think or communicate. It had never entered my consciousness that something beyond the usual accident/health crisis scenarios could impact my small, sheltered life.

Then, it did. 9/11 pulled the predictability of life out from under the feet of my tender age of 20. I realized I was far more vulnerable than my soul had ever imagined. I had more to fear than my seemingly significant cares - my grades, safety in my long drive to visit my parents, or a broken heart from a crushed relationship. This fear was on a new level.

Thankfully, 9/12 and 9/13 brought sunshine, clean air, and no new attacks on our nation. My heart started to settle and my fears pulled back to a more normal level. I don’t think about 9/11 most days anymore. It has shaped my soul and it’s a piece of history to never be forgotten. I don’t continue to re-live it though.

My awakening to the impact of unpredictability has remained. I think about it every day. I re-lived it on Labor Day last week in a fresh and catastrophic way. My symptoms of two years ago washed hard on my body. I haven’t known those symptoms for 1.5 years. I knew it COULD come back; it did.

I can’t start the medicine for a few more days, so each day until then is a gamble. Will today be a decent day? Or will it be a “lie all day in bed because I can’t move” day?

I CRAVE predictability. I deeply wish to make plans for what I want to do with thought only to whether it fits in my schedule. Oh, the freedom!

Some of you feel this. If you have chronic health issues, mental health struggles, caregiving responsibilities for a child with a serious behavioral or physical condition, or are caregivers of the elderly people in your life, you understand the wish for freedom. Lots of other circumstances and tragedies could lead to a similar situation of un-predictability; these are just a few examples.

You know how to pencil something into your life and hold onto it loosely. You’ve sent the text to bail on something you desperately wanted to attend. You’ve missed the weekend with your friends or the day on the lake. I wish you could have FOMO (fear of missing out).

For those who live a profoundly unpredictable life, FOMO is a luxurious opportunity. You know you don’t have space in your emotions or mind to spend energy and fear on missing out. You know that if you miss out life goes on because you’ve already had to miss so much stuff. You can’t get worked up over it because there are heavy things demanding your attention otherwise.

I see you. Our unpredictability becomes our rhythm. It owns our answers to invitations. It owns our vacations and our family fun days. It owns who we can be friends with and how we can be friends. It’s our shackles in our prison cell. It feels like the people around us have 32 less things to consider before answering “yes.”

And we are tempted to resent them for it. Our unpredictability opens the door for fear, anger, and resentment. I know that… all of that.

On 9/11, unpredictability became a gift in my life. It reminded me how small I am. It reminded me how unimportant that test was that I was blowing out of proportion. It reminded me the immense significance of the relationships in my life. It gave me perspective.

I saw how vulnerable I was. I saw how I needed to take myself less seriously and how I needed to take loving others more seriously. I saw how little I can do to control my life and how important my responses are to determine my successes and failures. I saw how I need to live each day with eternity in mind while I chase after excellence in today. I saw God bigger and I saw myself smaller.

Unpredictability paralyzed my heart for a little while on 9/11. And each year on 9/11 it happens again, a little bit.

The unpredictability of my health tempts me to be paralyzed. It tries to convince me I’m worth nothing because I can’t be everything I wish. It tries to convince me I should hide from commitment because I might not be able to follow through. It tries to convince me I’m an inconvenience to people and they’re better off without me. Sometimes it wins.

Unpredictability is a great humbler. It teaches me to be gracious to others; it teaches others to be gracious to me. It rubs against our rough edges. It cuts into tough corners of our hearts. It draws those who are willing together in rich humanity and grows kindness, gentleness, and patience in place of impertinence, impatience, and pride.

For those who live a consistently unpredictable life, I wish you the courage to take steps towards people and opportunities that put you at risk but offer the potential of rich reward. I wish you grace for yourself as you honor your pace. I wish you peace in your heart, a steady hand, and dry eyes as you send the text message that you’re bowing out this time. I wish you hope as you continue to face each unpredictable day.

For those who don’t live this unpredictable life, I wish you generosity and understanding for these people who do. I wish you words of hope and patience for them. I wish you an open mind and a free spirit to embrace these people and give them a safe place to be when they can show up.

9/11 is all the feelings. It’s all the memories. It’s all the surrender to my smallness in this world. It’s the deep belief that I am here to do good for others, no matter how unconventional my approach or my situation may be. Evil reigned for 1 hour and 21 minutes, but our kindness, sacrifice, and courage overcame.

May your unpredictability pull forward in you the hope, patience, and indomitable spirit so that you may overcome the strength of your opponent and spread your good so others might grow more beautiful.