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I didn’t intend to make this a special day. I’ve watched the news specials and heard the commemorative radio reports. Documentaries and dramatic re-enactments abound. People are asking the question, “Where were you when you heard the news on September 11, 2001?” It’s not that I don’t feel great sadness. Or sympathy for the families of those who died five years ago today. Or anger that all of this happened. I just didn’t intend to make this a special day. I don’t want to forget about terrorism or ignore it. I don’t want to isolate myself from world problems or the debate over important issues. I just want this day, in particular, to be a day of peace. Yet peace can be disturbed by even the most welcome of voices. Yesterday, I ventured out after lunch to do some long-overdue yard work. One of those tasks is the trimming of some prolific hedges. The chore has become much more manageable with the electric hedge trimmer. While this marvelous tool moves quickly, it also makes a lot of noise. So much noise, in fact, that my doctor has recommended ear plugs when using it and all other major power tools. So, with plugs in place, I stretched the power cord behind me and attacked the row of bushes in my front yard. Halfway done, I pulled the cord around the side of the house. At first, I was blissfully aware of the great silence I was experiencing. With the trimmer off and the plugs still in, I heard nothing. My auditory senses blocked, I concentrated on the beauty of this Sunday afternoon and welcomed the warmth of the sun. But just before I got to the gate leading to the back, I heard something. It was a voice. And it was remarkably clear. Others have told me stories of hearing voices. I really hadn’t had that experience. This one was distinct – and familiar. “Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so.” My granddaughter bellowed the familiar song as Nancy, my wife, pushed her ever higher in the swing. The ear plugs had no effect. The message came through ever so powerfully. Landrye was singing with delight and conviction. I couldn’t help but smile. I intended to wear earplugs today – to screen out all the noise that will come from remembrance and condolences and the call for revenge. Yet, I can’t turn my face from all of that. I can’t help but hear in all of this, “Jesus loves me, this I know.” And I also know he loves us all, even those who piloted planes into the I didn’t intend to make this a special day. But then again, I didn’t know I would hear voices. Shine On! Copyright 2006 Joe L. Cope
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