Flying on 9-11

I'm flying on 9-11.  Thirteen years ago many of us wondered if we would ever be able to muster the courage to get on a place again.  But we did.  Millions of us did.  Indeed, I flew later that fall to teach a course in Iowa.  Security was tight.  The soldiers and others who protected our airports carried weapons that were unsettling for many.  I remember on that first flight something fell a few rows ahead from one of the overhead bins and a woman screamed.  We applauded when we landed safely.

I didn't intentionally book a flight for 9-11.  I'm going to Trinidad to help distribute wheelchairs to folks in need of them.  9-11 turned out to be the day we needed to leave to get there for the distribution.  Not only am I flying that day, but I'm taking my thirteen year old grandson with me.

I hadn't really thought about it as particularly brave or noble, much less as an act of defiance.  But I suppose in a way it is.  I suppose in its own way its saying terrorism can't stop us from doing good.  Evil may think it has the upper hand, but it doesn't.  We may need to ramp up security.  We may need to take off shoes and worry about how many ounces of shampoo we're carrying and even give up a measure of our own privacy--but we're not going to stop doing the things that can help make this world a better place.  Like raising money for wheelchairs and seeing that they get given to kids with no legs and old folks who are no longer mobile.

So I'm flying on 9-11.  It's not much, really.  But keep me in your prayers, please.  And keep in your prayers those folks who do far riskier things in the name of all that is good.  Doctors and nurses who risk their own health to fight Ebola.  Firefighters who run into burning buildings to rescue those who are trapped.  Those who negotiate between warring parties.  For in the end every act of love, every act of compassion, says no to evil and yes to that which is good and right and beautiful.