This morning I woke up to the sound of sirens. They continued to wail at intervals all day. I get chills when I hear ambulance or fire engine sirens. I always wonder whose house is burning, or what poor person is in the back of the ambulance. I suppose I will read all about it in tomorrow's paper. I have riden in the back of an ambulance on more than one occasion. Sitting beside a loved one, and years later being the victim myself. I know about the rushed and swaying trip to the hospital, the loud siren wail just above your head, the flashing lights making strobe-like reflections on the road, the medics beside you radioing the hospital to get instructions on treatment. But this time I did not think just about the victim, I thought about the rescuers. The men driving, risking their lives to save a life. Running headfirst into buildings and not knowing what they will find. So here is what I found downtown today. This is how one small town remembers September 11. Main Street lined with flags. A wreath at the firehouse, and the fire trucks doors all open, waiting....all flags everywhere at half mast. The sun was still shining, God is still in control.
"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:38