flight 93

Uplifted

While attending an event at the 9/11 National Memorial in New York City, I learned a great deal about healing. This understanding manifested from spending time with 9/11 responders who served at the World Trade Center. As I mingled among the many in attendance, I heard the stories of their days working on the pile of tangled steel and mortar once known as the Twin Towers. In doing so, I attained an unbelievable amount of knowledge about my own journey which too began on that September day. These responders included police officers, firefighters, emergency service personnel, demolition experts, construction workers and human service representatives as well. I was enlightened about the power of letting go and the healing which it brings. As we spoke about their individual stories, I watched their eyes with great intent and listened to their thoughts shared about the rescues of human life, the recovery of remains and the work completed to restore. I heard of the anguish suffered as they feverishly worked to first rescue those still alive. I listened as they relived the days and the months which then followed. In their voices, I heard the deep-seeded hurt as they related the agony felt at the loss of life in the midst of the terror which had rained down upon us all. This wonderful wave of humanity had joined forces to serve and bring order to the chaos of a horrendous circumstance.

As I walked among the thousands of wounded warriors who had served in time past, I heard their words filled with sorrow. I heard about the illnesses which now plagued all too many. I heard the sadness in their voices and the pain within their hearts. Yet, more importantly, what I heard in their voices held significant meaning to me. It was the voice of deliverance from their torment. I heard the stories of service and how they were grateful to give back to those lost. I heard the messages of gratitude for the days yet to be. I saw the mirrored image of the brethren now gone who had served humanity, their community and country as well. The valor of their deeds and the courage of their response. The endearment of their fellow men and women who all hurried to protect and serve. In these moments of remembering, my time of 9/11 came to pass. I found a sense of healing stir within me among those who understood all to well.

I have dwelled in the valley of the shadow of death and I have now been finally lifted by the light. The tale of 9/11 told within the pages of my book “In The Shadow Of A Badge” has now come full circle. On that day, from the Bible lying upon the ground, I read the passage of Psalm 23: The Lord Is My Shepherd. Although I was unaware of the true meaning of the gift, I now stand in full comprehension of the magnitude of the message received. On that day of 9/11, I was stricken by the grief as were all who watched in horror. When I cried out to God for His deliverance, it was indeed heard. It came in the form of the angelic messengers with much to say and much to do. In the moments of the visitation, the Bible flew open and the words read had great religious meaning to me. But, the spiritual content of my being was not yet aware. Now in these many years past, I have heard the herald of the angels as their trumpets sounded in refrain. I have passed from the shadows into the illumination of new life. A light in which I intend to dwell forever more. I stand courageous in my need to forgive and find redemption. I pray for the ability to move on with my life and never again allow the past to restrict me from my journey. I pray for the joy to return and recapture my heart and soul.

I am thankful to those I met and those who shared their stories. For in their kindness and in their words, I became uplifted from the sorrow and the pain from the damage and the shame. Each of these individuals created a collective conscious which has awakened my spirit and reinvigorated my soul. Each is an inspiration and a true hero in every sense of the word.

9/11 National Memorial

Saturday
02
June 2012
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ARCHANGEL MICHAEL ICON

St. Michael Monastery, Village of Panormitis, Greek Island of Symi

Yesterday, I received another lovely letter in the mail from a woman who read my book. In it she described the parallels in our lives. One of which was her belief in the angels and especially her connection to the Archangel Michael. Her heritage and religious background gave her faith and the strength of her convictions.

As part of the letter, she shared a family story and a photograph too. The photo portrayed an icon of St. Michael which stands in a church on the Greek Island of Symi. In further researching the photo, I found the icon hangs in a monastery in the village of Panormitis. A site which is held sacred to its inhabitants and a place where pilgrims have come to pray for many generations. Since this icon was created long ago, it once again bears testimony to the presence of angels. The belief in angels is not one of those fleeting concepts which come and go, or a fad which passes in the blink of an eye. It is a belief about celestial beings which is as old as time itself. With stories which have been passed down through the centuries. This marvelous impression of the Archangel Michael portrays him as I saw him that fateful September day. I viewed him in all of his splendor standing on the field. He was garbed in armor from head to toe and illuminated in white light. He was the warrior ready to do battle and protect all of mankind.

In her letter, this woman thanked me for writing the book which she felt gave her a sense of solace about her beliefs. Although I am grateful for her words of thanks, I feel it important for me to thank her as well. Her amazing story and willingness to share has given me a feeling of peace. It does my heart good to know their are so many others who believe in God’s winged messengers and their abilities to respond in our time of need. Thank you dear lady for your kindness bestowed. May you forever feel the comfort of your angelic guides…

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Monday
12
March 2012
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FROZEN MEMORIES

In the early stages of the onset of the PTSD, flashbacks were a common occurrence in my daily life. They were a constant reminder of what I saw, what I heard and what I smelled. Any similar prop which presented itself to me caused the prompting of a frozen memory to become the reality of the day. The past merged with the present and my mind became a tangled web of misunderstood messages, thoughts and (on occasion) ill behaviors too.

Over these many years, the flashbacks have decreased. Now their arrival is usually beset by some prop which resembles past days walking the field and watching all which resulted from 9/11, and post days as I watched over those who suffered most. Yet there are times when the remembrances result because I am inadvertently drawn to something viewed on television or heard in the every day doings of life. One such incident took place last evening as I watched the ending of a movie titled, “Unstoppable.” The storyline is based on a true story. In short, the movie tells the tale of two men who risk their lives to help stop a train which is on the fast track to destruction. Their need to help their fellow man outweighs their fear of imminent death.

Now, I usually try to avoid watching any type of movie or television program which may possibly prompt a negative memory. I abhor any violent programming and tend to prefer the comedies and romances which allow me to dream. But, as I watched the last few scenes of this particular movie, my mind was immediately transferred to the image of the passengers and crew members aboard Flight 93 and the remnants of the crash site. My thoughts focused on what must have gone through their minds in those last moments as they made their choice to help save humanity. I kept hearing the word “heroism” across the whispers of my ear. I felt the mixed emotions of pride and pain for these heroic individuals. And in the midst of these feelings, came a sense of helplessness as well. I felt somehow responsible for not having been able to aid them in some way. After all, I was a law enforcement professional and responsible to serve and protect. And on that fateful day in our history, I fear I failed to do so. If this is the deep-seeded feeling which still lies dormant in the dark abyss of my mind, I pray for a reprieve from the distant memories to come soon and set my mind in motion to heal.

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Wednesday
25
January 2012
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REVISITING THE FIELD: IN SEARCH OF THE ANGELS

For nine years, I delayed revisiting the Flight 93 crash site. I hadn’t been to the site since the first anniversary events in 2002. I believe I deliberately stayed away from field as a means of avoiding addressing any hidden emotions not yet explored and/or expressed. Nevertheless, I was drawn to it and any news about the development of the Memorial gave me a reason to listen and learn of the most recent news. And, over the prevailing years, I watched as the Memorial went from concept to the beginnings of its’ reality.

In the days leading up to the 10th Anniversary of 9/11, my anxiety flared in anticipation of attending the dedication of the new memorial and the services planned. I feared my visit would prompt additional recalls of dormant memories which may cause flashbacks. Also, I was hesitant of seeing the distant faces of those whom I had met some ten years ago. My mood moved between the usual depression and anxious behaviors and caused many a restless day and sleepless nights. In the midst of my mind’s struggle, there was a tiny ray of light which stirred deep inside my soul. It was a small illuminated ray from my spirit urging me to walk the field once again. It shined and peered through the vast and dark murky shadows of my mind. It was a light inside of me which had held the remnants of hope sustained. The hope of recalling a past in sequences of beckoned learning. The hopes of a present with the possibility of new beginnings on each and every day. It was a hope which provided inspiration for what was yet to be. And, the hopes for a future of better tomorrows. A dawning of life in pursuit of the fulfillment of purpose and the pleasure of dreams.

On that day when I once more walked upon the field, I felt as if I could retrace my steps from the long-ago place and space of time. The field which once contained the devastation of Flight 93, now housed the memorial to honor the 40 fallen heroes and their brave story. My eyes misted and my heart beat raced as the memories came flooding forward from the dark to the light. As I searched about the horizon, purveying the entire scene, I found myself searching for the Angels I had once seen.

How my eyes longed to see the celestial beings first viewed on that fateful field. How I prayed for another glimpse of their beautiful faces and illuminated wings. Yet as I looked across the newly created memorial with its’ white and black marble lines, my eyes could not help but transfer to the field of long ago. For a moment, my mind traveled back in search of its’ last view. My eyes opened again and one scene after another recaptured the frames in reflection. Ever so slightly, my mind moved back to the present time and stilled the memories once framed and frozen in time.

I searched the sloping hills with their scenic views of trees and wild grasses and looked for the Angels once more. In an instant to the left of the stage, I saw the Heavenly visitors standing tall among the trees and observed several of the spirits as well. It took but a moment to see them, hear their voices and listen to the messages to be shared. Each came to whisper a “goodbye” and explain it was time to go. They had awaited the building of the memorial for all to remember and to understand. And now, as the instruments played the music and the voices lifted in song, the souls prepared to depart this earthly domain. It was their time to ascend into the great abyss of blue and bid a farewell in their moment of adieu.

Yes, I came in search of the Angels for one last glimpse and to recall. And, on this day of memory, I found them and bid them another welcome and a goodbye as well.

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Thursday
03
November 2011
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