Ever since September 11, 2001 happened, I have been on my knees praying for the safety/protection of our nation, the United States of America.

I will never forget where I was on that day. I was in basic training, studying hard to become an Army nurse, when we heard of the attacks. We stood there, stunned; we could not believe what we had heard. The twin towers in New York City had been attacked by terrorists; they were now on fire. Not long after that, the Pentagon in Washington DC had been hit. More terror, more reason to be scared.

I looked at the pale, shocked faces of my military comrades, trying to make sense of it all. It couldn't get any worse, I remember thinking back then.

How wrong I was.

It did get worse: a lot worse. Another plane had gone down in a field in Pennsylvania, killing all aboard. Apparently some people had hijacked it, said that they were going to blow up the Capitol building (or another landmark in Washington DC), but a brave man by the name of Todd Beamer purposely crashed the plane in the field, to protect the president and to keep more lives from being lost.

After that, all airports closed. All flights were grounded until further notice. We were now at war, a war we didn't ask to be in, but terrorists struck; we felt it was our (patriotic) duty to protect America from further devastation.

All of a sudden, the thought of my being in the Army took on an entirely different meaning for me. I didn't go in just to further my education: I went in because I wanted to serve my country, the United States of America. I wanted to protect her, I wanted to preserve all the freedoms that we Americans often took for granted, something most other nations did not have.

For weeks afterwards, I contiued my training; went to Iraq in January of this year; wasn't there even three weeks when I got injured in a bomb blast. Lost my legs, had injuries to my stomach, even to my back. I was a mess; it was a miracle I didn't die.

I then got sent back with a purple heart, to Germany, where I continued my recovery in a hospital there. When I got well enough, I was flown back to the states, to Walter Reed Medical, where I started a heavy regimen of physical/occupational/emotional therapies. I was soon walking not even six  months later--on a pair of bright purple crutches, no less, but I was walking again, even when doctors said I never would.

I then returned back to my current home in New Hampshire, where I remain, still recuperating from additional surgery on my legs and back. I am doing  much better, but it is a slow process; I still have months before I get back to where I once was.

I still think of September 11, 2001, and I can't help but to mourn the dead, think of their friends or family members who must endure the (painful) memories all over again. I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost anyone like that; it was horrible for us to see the devastation on our television sets, and it was hard to comprehend the reasonings behind the attacks, why people in a different part of the world, of a different culture, hated America (and Americans) so bad. Why they used violence and/or hate as a way to get their (evil) message across is something I will never even beGIN to understand.

I reflect on what New York City looked like before the attacks, as opposed to now, and my heart hurts every time I see the changes made to her skyline. Twin towers no longer grace her skyline, and nearly three thousand people didn't have to die in the way that they did. I wonder if we are even safer now, and I wonder if anything else is being done to ensure that it won't happen a second time. I also wonder if anything is being done to bring the killers (Osama bin Laden, among others) to swift justice, if anything is being done to even find him. Sometimes I feel not enough is being done, and it has me feeling frustrated.

Tomorrow marks the six-year anniversary of the terror attacks; once again we  must remember, reflect, grieve. Once again old pains are reopened; once again we must live in fear or uncertainty. Once again we are left shaking our heads, asking unanswerable questions; once again we mourn the towers, the Pentagon, the dead, their families/friends/acuaintances.

Why wasn't anything done to prevent this from happening in the first place? Why must we fight an unseen enemy; why did they attack us? What did we ever do to them?? Why are our men and women being punished for killing Iraqi citizens while the enemy is using their own people as shields and they continue to kill and maim hundreds of people? Why aren't they being charged witih murder?? Why are they getting away with it??

It doesn't make any sense! None, whatsoever!!

Yet even on that day, as bad as it all was, God was in control. He intervened in a way that more lives weren't lost. That's why that plane in Pennsylvania went down; that's why the White House still stands, that's why the Pentagon has been rebuilt. That's why we haven't been attacked a second time; that's why He puts His warrior angels around our nation.

No, we aren't the same as we once was prior to the attacks (we will never be so again), but He has His reasons why this happened, maybe as a way to bring us back TO Him. I don't know, but this is how I think.

God bless America, and God be with us as we observe one of the worst days of our history!

Above all, NEVER, ever forget!!